


Empty Nest - Revised

by coffeegleek



Series: Empty Nest Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat Kurt, Cat/Human Hybrids, Homeless Blaine, Homeless Kurt, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Blaine, Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kitty Kurt, M/M, Not your typical hybrid or kitty!Kurt fic, all sex between Kurt and Blaine is fully consensual, hybrid kurt, kitty blaine, non-graphic killing of an animal for food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeegleek/pseuds/coffeegleek
Summary: Empty Nest started off as just this little thing I was going to write. The idea had been kicking around in my head for a year. There's a stray cat that's taken shelter under our front porch for years & runs whenever he sees us. When my son went off to university, I started thinking about what if the cat was really homeless, hybrid Kurt? And in October of 2017, I finally started to write what was going to be a ficlette & nothing more. It's now late January 2018 & the verse has grown to two fics, a series of Klaine Advent one shots, 98,442 words, & is still going.When I reached chapter 12 of Rebuilding the Nest, I felt the time had finally come for me to revise the verse, especially Empty Nest, correct any errors I'd missed before, & clean up the time line inconsistencies. When I first started writing, I had no clear cut idea of how hybrids had come about or what they were like. I was just going with the usual trope flow. As chapters went on, I fell more & more back on my science fiction writing roots & established them as a single evolved race. That was my biggest change to Empty Nest & reason for the revision.I hope you enjoy.





	1. Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 Summary: Kurt is a runaway, homeless hybrid. Burt and Carole are empty nesters who see him sleeping under their porch.
> 
> Author's Notes: TW: For not-too-graphic depiction of killing an animal for food. Thanks to everyone who helped make this fic better including avengerco (my beta,) notenoughtogivebread (my sounding board and advice giver,) and all the lovely folks who have left comments and kudos. You keep me going. :)

\---------------------

"Hey, Buddy. Didn't mean to scare you." Burt Hummel put a hand to his heart, not sure who had been more startled - the hybrid teenage boy who'd been under his porch one minute and racing down the street the next, or himself when he'd gone to get into his truck only to see a flash of chestnut fur and tattered clothing dart past him. He thought he'd seen the poor kid around a few times before, and with the cold, soggy weather they'd been having lately, who could blame him for seeking out shelter. He'd put some food out for him when he got back home from work. The kid could probably use a decent meal or two.

His body protesting his brain's need to move so quickly after just having woken up, Kurt ran down the street and across two more until he found the overgrown lot with rusting piles of metallic junk he knew he could hide among for a few minutes. He wasn't scared per se of the man whose porch he'd slept under, but you could never be too careful, especially when it came to humans. Gravel wasn't exactly a comfy bed and the walls were in need of some serious repairs, but it was the only underporch in that neighborhood that hadn't been completely sealed off. It had been his refuge on more than one rainy and snowy night since he'd run away from the abuse-filled juvenile detention center over a year ago. On occasion, he would sneak into the man's detached garage, but it was so piled with junk that it was hard to find a spot where he wasn't poked or forced to sleep by the containers of weed killer and pesticides. The recycling bins always held good bits too. The jars and cans were never rinsed out. Half dried scrapings of chili, soup, and tuna weren't exactly a gourmet meal, but they had kept him fed and alive on more than one dire day, so he was thankful for them and the porch.

Shaking off the surge of adrenaline, Kurt crouched lower in the tall grass, ears twitching off the rain that had started to fall again, and wiggled his way until he was under the remains of the 1950 Chevy propped up on cinder blocks. He'd finish sleeping and then resume his daily rounds.

* * * * * * * * *

Early evening, Kurt found himself back at the man's house. The truck was in the driveway and its engine was still warm. He wished he was small enough to fit under it to take advantage of that fact, settling for rubbing his body against the chassis as he walked past it and towards the backyard instead. It didn't do much, but in these temperatures, any bit of warmth was welcome. His nose caught the smell of something wonderfully pungent coming from under the porch. Curious, he made his way over and discovered an open can of tuna. Not the leavings of one, but a whole can, filled to the brim, and placed carefully in the corner where he had been sleeping that morning. Oh, it was a good day indeed! He ate quickly, licking the tin clean and then depositing it into the recycling bin, hoping to find something for later. Sadly, the bins were empty. It must have been a pick up day. The one meal was better than none though, and more than he'd eaten all day. He decided not to continue his search for food, curled up under the porch, and called it an early day. The damn rain had started up again and it was getting colder at night.

"Well aren't you a sweet kid, putting the can away. You didn't have to. Glad you liked the tuna, Bud." Burt smiled as he readjusted his cap and got into his truck. The hybrid boy was long gone, but he felt it needed to be said anyway. Life had to be rough for him, especially in these politically distressing times. Not that being homeless wasn't stressful enough. Hell, the kid probably didn't even know his kind no longer had any rights. Or maybe he did and felt being on his own was better than where he'd been before. He couldn't take the kid in, that'd be too much, but maybe he could make his life a little easier.

Kurt pressed harder on the mouse he'd caught behind the garage, trying to stop it from moving. It wasn't a baby anymore, so he felt it was fair game. Ideal? No. Gross? Absolutely. Screwed over by the genetic lottery that had created his kind too? Definitely. At least his genes had come with retractable claws and quick reflexes that allowed him to catch prey easier than the homeless humans he knew. As he pocketed the now-dead creature to eat later, he heard the man thanking him. Maybe the guy was one of the few good ones. His son and his son's friends not so much when they were being loud and obnoxious in the back yard, but he hadn't seen them lately. He preferred it when it was quiet. Not being taunted, scared, and objects thrown at him were good too. The guy though, he was nice. So was his wife, but he rarely saw her.

Kurt left the man's yard and started making his rounds. His first stop was to Old Lady Mercedes' house. She actually wasn't that old, not ancient at least, yet that's what she'd insisted he call her. She was a full human with dark brown skin and hair that had gone to gray. Her voice was as lovely as she was kind. Most days, if she was tending her garden, she'd let him help and pay him with a few dollars, some food, or a used article of clothing. He found her today in her side yard, wearing the loudest pink zebra striped housecoat he'd ever had the misfortune of seeing.

"I can't sing with you today, Kurt. Got a nasty sore throat, but the bulbs need planting before the frost hits. Want to help? I could pay you in brownies. Just made a batch last night. Can you eat chocolate?"

"I can...a little...but..." Kurt halted his reply. Free food was free food even if it did make you a bit sick. Fortunately, he didn't have to continue, as his benefactor finished answering for him.

"But brownies probably aren't what you need right now. How about I make you a hat? A friend shared a pattern she uses for her cat. I know you're not a house cat, but Lord Tubbington is no small creature. I could size it up for you and have it done by the end of the week. How's that sound?"

"Okay. I could sing for you while we work if you want?"

"Oh, aren't you a peach! If only I were a few decades younger, my boy...well let's just say gardening wouldn't be the only thing we'd be up to."

Kurt swallowed down his gut reaction to the implication and put on a smile. She could never know. It wasn't safe for him for anyone to know. He had too many scars and nightmares to prove it. Quickly, he began to sing one of the hymns she'd taught him. He didn't believe in her gods more than to curse them, but the song worked to change the subject away from...those things.

After the visit with Mercedes, and now with a pocket full of brownies "because someone has to help me eat them, Cutie", he made his way to the library. He skulked around the building's windows, trying to see which librarians were on duty and if there were classes for preschoolers going on. The little kids were always too loud, running around and screaming, the sound reaching even the most secluded spot in the adult section. Lima was a small town and therefore the Lima Public Library was small as well. As for the librarians, there were only two that didn't mind his presence. The others would point to the "No pets allowed" and, newer, "No Furs" signs and chase him out. He fucking hated racists that viewed his kind as no more intelligent or sentient than animals, denying the scientific evidence that proved otherwise. The library, when it was safe to enter, wasn't just a shelter from the elements. It was a place to read. He might not be in the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory's version of high school anymore and his dreams of going to college had been dashed, but he was still going to get an education...on top of catching up on all the latest fashions and celebrity gossip magazines. Plus, to be honest, being homeless was boring. Hard, hellish, hot, cold, hungry, terrifying, but also, filled with long stretches of time where there was nothing to do. So he read. Or tried to anyway. If he couldn't spend time in the library, then he'd root around their dumpster for something to read. Sometimes the Goodwill tossed out donated books and magazines too.

Today, he was able to get in and spent the rest of the morning reading up on the history of human designed hybrid fashion throughout the ages. During a period of his race's enslavement by humans in Europe and the still-expanding United States, clothing for his kind depended upon where the slaves worked. For those used as laborers on farms and construction projects, it was loose pants, shirts, and dresses of a much simpler style and with cheaper fabrics than their wealthy owners. The more gentile elite, who dressed in lacey collars and pantaloons, preferred to call their slaves house servants and made them wear overly fru fru garments as well. The trends continued with only a few variations even when slavery was outlawed and hidden behind the thinly veiled term "indentured servitude." Then there were the subculture trends which floated in and out of fashion, but remained essentially the same - full to partial nudity with a fetish BSDM twist. Kurt shuddered, knowing it wasn't meant for style, but instead for the perversities of those with power over those who had none. Only when hybrids had integrated into society as near-equals in those countries, did their fashion transform into to some practical pieces - pants, shirts, jumpsuits, boots...the same clothing humans wore, but with minor modifications to account for differences in anatomy. 

He wished he could find a book on hybrid designed fashion. Hybrids understood their physiology and garment needs the best. They didn't overlook the details such as practical snaps in the back to make removing pants easier. Tails and ears were covered in winter gear. Most importantly, pant legs and shirt sleeves were contoured to the body instead of flowing away from it. If more hybrids had their way, bellbottoms and prairie skirts never would have been a thing in the 70's. 

The current administration in the United States though was setting all of the rights hybrids had gained, politically more than fashionably, back. Someone hadn't bothered to log off on one of the nearby computers, and as he scanned the news sites, the headlines alone told him his fate wasn't going to improve anytime soon. Sure, there were protests, petitions, and lawsuits, but those things didn't help his immediate reality. He was still a homeless, runaway, underage, and orphaned hybrid with an arrest record who liked boys. All the Facebook shares and sad emojis weren't going to change any of those things.

He looked at a clock on the wall, deleted his browser history, and left the library. It was nearing 2 o'clock. Schools would start letting out soon and he was not going to be trapped in that deep level of hell.

It was time to get out of sight too, so he took the lesser used streets to one with a row of strip malls. The Goodwill was busy with a line of cars and SUVs dumping their kids' outgrown clothes and basement junk off. Dumpster diving there would have to be put off for later. He was hoping for a coat, or at least enough used clothing he could sew into a coat. Another pair of pants would be welcome too. 

Fortunately, the seedy motel just a few buildings over was empty and the cleaning lady had left her cart outside while she assessed the horrors of a pay-by-the-hour room. He managed to snitch a couple of bottles of shampoo and bar of soap before she returned. He would have loved to have gotten a towel or roll of toilet paper, but such was not his luck today. Washing would have to wait for the next rain storm or some automatic lawn sprinklers running at night. The house next door to the nice man with the open underporch usually ran theirs when it rained, leaving the yard a soggy mess of puddles. Some people were too stupid for their own good.

Kurt crept into the wooded area by the hotel, debating what to do next. It was still too early to check out the grocery stores and restaurants. Those dumpsters could only be searched at night and with great caution. Any major source of food was dangerous unless you had a gang or a few friends around you. He had neither. Tina, a really sweet and always-cheerful hybrid, used to give him pizza when she worked at the Little Caesars, marking it down as expired and pretending to throw it away when her boss wasn't looking. Now the place sported a "No Furs" sign on the door and their dumpster was locked. God, he missed pizza.

Stomach rumbling at the memory of it, he closed his eyes and tried to pretend the mouse he'd caught earlier was a slice of extra pepperoni and sausage with double cheese. It wasn't. It was weird and crunchy and furry and so very, very eww. The world sucked.

When the school buses stopped running and the sky had grown a lot darker, he decided to make his way back to the man's neighborhood and porch he slept under. A house on the outskirts of it had put out their recycling bins too late. There weren't any decent food leavings, but some of the cans had collected enough rain water to provide him with a much needed drink. The pair of yapper dogs in the next house over came barreling out of their doggy door, making him regret taking their yard as a shortcut. He hated those dogs. They made picking through the neighborhood trash harder. If he could have gotten away with it and was a crueler person, they would have been the base of his winter coat.

Upon reaching the guy's back yard, Kurt saw a stray, golden tabby cat. A fellow hybrid, he would have tolerated...maybe. Okay, he would have been scared of because with strangers, it was common sense to be cautious. A simple cat though? Oh, hell no. This was his shelter house. His territory. The cat could go find some other place to sleep and cans to lick. It was bad enough he had to share the resources with opossums and squirrels. With a lot of hissing he hoped meant "fuck you" in cat, and a well-placed swipe, he chased the animal away. He then proceeded to re-mark the areas he considered his, rubbing the side of his face around the edges of the underporch, along the garage, the perimeter of the yard, and even the recycling bins. He peed on the areas for good measure too. It wasn't dignified, it was a thing humans loved to use to say his race wasn't any better than dogs, but fucking hell, he was not going to give up this place. He wouldn't have survived this past year on his own without it. 

He had tried sheltering in predominately hybrid neighborhoods, but the racist cops patrolled those areas the most and the residents would chase him off. They didn't need any more trouble. The cops would fine, arrest, and shoot them for any slight, real or imagined as it was. It was almost ironic that a human's house would be the safest place for him. Or maybe it was just that he'd found the right person and their race didn't matter this time. 

The man didn't put out any food for him the next few days, but there was fresh recycling and some mostly edible bits of garbage. Soggy sandwich crusts and moldy cheese weren't great, but at least they didn't make him cramp up like the brownies Mercedes had given him did.

* * * * * * * * *

By Friday, the temperature had plummeted. The underporch kept out most of the wind, but the concrete walls and gravel floor didn't retain any heat and he was freezing. Last winter, the man had put an old blanket and torn pair of sweatpants there for him. It was a nice gesture, but the rain had soaked through the cloth and frozen solid. It had been worse than not having a blanket at all.

It was morning the next day and Kurt had just finished peeing behind the garage, this time because his bladder was full, and was tucking his privates back into his pants, when he heard the man talking to him again. "Sorry, for not getting to this sooner, Bud, but I had to wait until Jackass Charlie over there left on his annual trip to Florida. Racist, nosey bastard would have called the code enforcer on me if he knew what I was doing. Not that some of the other neighbors are much better, but he's the worst. I know you're not a cat, not by any means, but well, I saw this video on how to make a shelter for stray cats and thought maybe I could make up something for you. Best I could find as an outer base was a plastic storage bench. Was lucky to get one this late in the season. Hope it's big enough for you once I'm done lining it with insulation. I got a second one and a new patio table too. Make it look less conspicuous that way. At least, that's what Carole said. She put some clothes in second one for you. Don't mean to scare you, but I'm going to make some noise now with the jigsaw. I swear neither it nor I will hurt you."

Kurt did run at the noise. He couldn't help it. His flight or fight instinct was too strong, too developed given what he'd experienced in juvie and on the streets. Loud and harsh meant bad. There was no telling his brain otherwise. So he ran. He ran and ran until he found himself at the grocery store. At least it was quiet there. No one was at the dumpster and the night crew had tossed out old bread and produce. The peppers and strawberries were too far gone, but the apples were merely bruised and the loaf of sliced artisan bread was still in its cellophane wrapper. Right as he was pocketing an over-ripe banana, his ears picked up the sound of one of Lima's gangs. This one was a mix of hybrids and humans, jostling each other around and making loud and vulgar comments to a woman trying to make her way to her car in the parking lot. Fortunately, he was able to leave before they spotted him. He had the scars to remind him of what could happen if they did.

He ate his breakfast behind the closed down K-Mart. The old loading bay didn't offer much of a windbreak, but it was shelter enough to keep him hidden for a while. To pass time, he started reading a well-worn paperback romance novel he found wedged under the dock's door. It had only the slimmest of plots, lines so cheesy they needed crackers, and the hetero couple on the cover was stereotypically windswept and barely clothed, but at least they were both hybrids, so the book had some redeeming value. Before he knew it, the sun had set too low to find out what new, anatomically impossible sex acts Lauren and Noah were up to. He debated taking the book with him, but in the end decided to re-wedge it under the door. He'd let another hybrid appreciate Noah's hard abs and writhing, probing tail.

Back at the human's house, Kurt finally had a chance to figure out what the man had been talking about. It was quiet once again, the man gone back inside, and the engine of his truck long-cold. A bowl of food had been placed on the back yard's patio, right by the two plastic storage benches. It was a mix of tuna, raw egg, and rice this time. More rice than anything, but it tasted good and they'd given him a plastic spoon to eat it with. The inclusion of the utensil was a gesture that meant more to him than it probably should have, but it was nice being treated as a person instead of a stray animal. Cautiously, he sniffed around the benches before lifting the lid of one. Inside was a simple change of clothes - sweatpants and a sweatshirt, new by the looks of them, and a hat. A hat that wasn't fringed in brown yarn to resemble a lion's mane and crocheted by a well-meaning, but bit senile, old lady. He pulled the new hat on immediately. His ears were freezing and only when desperate and guaranteed to be alone, was he ever going to wear the lion one.

He sniffed again around the other bench. It smelled like straw. When he lifted the lid, he discovered only sheets of a Styrofoam-like board taped together, forming a box. Curious, he closed the lid and inspected the outside. On one end there was a large rubber flap bolted at the top, like a doggie door. He peered inside, not able to see much, but enough to know that there was a bed of straw and blankets. It would be a tight fit, but he assumed this was the shelter the man had been talking about. He backed his way inside, scrunching the natural bedding down and pulling the blankets over himself. It didn't take long before he was warm. Warm! Something he hadn't felt in weeks. Cramped, a bit claustrophobic, and warm beat out cold, rocky, and not warm any day. Within minutes he fell asleep, a contented smile on his face, and thoughts of Noah's romantic prowess in his dreams.

* * * * * * * * *

Kurt awoke with a start, panicking at being confined and in a place he didn't know. Had he been caught and put in a cage? Fucking hell he was not going to be arrested again or turned into some perverted psycho's slave. Where was the exit? This was bad. Very bad. The smell of straw and warmth. Those were good. But footsteps and voices weren't. And they were coming closer. Shit! he laid perfectly still, hoping that the owners of the voices wouldn't notice him and would go away. If they didn't, if they tried to hurt him, he at least had his teeth, claws, and years of experience in juvie that had taught him how to fight dirty.

"Did he use the shelter?"

"I'm looking, Carole."

"Don't get too close, Burt. You don't want to spook the poor kid."

"I'm not! I'm not."

"There's some straw on the ground, so maybe. Did he eat the food?"

"Yep. Bowl's licked cleaned and put in the plastic recycling bin. I don't see the spoon, but maybe it's in there too somewhere."

"That's good. I always hated the phrase, 'Beggars can't be choosers.' It strips a person of their humanity. As if someone in need doesn't have a right to have things they like. What if they have a food allergy or really hate oatmeal?"

"It's just you who hates oatmeal, Dear."

"It has the consistency of vomit! I see enough of that at work."

"I know you do."

"We're not always perfect with his meals, but I'm trying to be better now that we know we have a hybrid and not a stray cat eating the food and going through the bins. What did you name him?"

"Bud. Buddy."

"Guess I can't call him Mister Fluffy Pants anymore, can I?"

"No, you really can't."

"What are we going to do, Burt?"

"The best we can for him. Hybrids have lost so many of their rights that they're not even considered citizens or people anymore. It's close to illegal to hire one now or let them live in your home."

"Unless you're rich and have power."

"Yes. Unless you're that and have no humanity left by treating them like they're nothing. So, we're going to do the best we can. Finn's off to college. We're depressed empty nesters. This kid? He got the raw end of the deal. Maybe we're not his only house he shelters at. He's over here often enough though. We'll do the best for him that we can. It's not much, but at least it's more than last year when we didn't know, right?"

"You're right. Do you mind if I make the drive to Sam's Club? Pick up some cheap chicken. Batch cook him some meals. Nothing fancy or expensive, but it'll be something."

"I think that's a perfect idea, Carole. Come on. Let's get inside. I need more coffee before I head into work. It starts getting colder and suddenly everyone wants their oil changed, fluids topped off, and tires rotated."

The voices faded away, yet Kurt waited until he was certain they wouldn't return. His brain no longer a flood of panic, he could see light around the edges of the door flap and cautiously made his way out of the confined space. If what these people said was true, if they really were going to start taking care of him, maybe he'd make it after all. Life would still be hard, but it would suck a little less. He'd have a chance and that was something.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life on the streets sucks when you're sick.

\----------------------

"See, I told you we shouldn't feed him oatmeal, Burt."

"The website said oatmeal was full of protein and that hybrids could eat it."

"Oatmeal is gross. Buddy agrees with me."

"Fine. Fine. No more oatmeal for either of you. He ate the chicken livers though."

"I figured he could use the iron. Made the kitchen reek to high heaven though. Next time, you can cook them."

The man laughed and adjusted his cap. "Yes, Dear. Anything else?"

"We should ask him what he wants."

"What? He won't come near us. You know that. Poor kid runs every time he sees me."

"I'll write him a note and leave it in the bench."

"What if he can't read? We don't know what kind of life he's had. Maybe he was never allowed to learn."

"Then why did half the magazines and books we dejunked last week get taken out of the paper recycling bin?" 

"Could have been someone else."

"And it could have been Buddy. It can't hurt to try."

"No, it can't. You're right as always."

"You should remember that."

Burt laughed as he and Carole headed inside. "Yes, Dear." 

Kurt was relieved when the man and his wife left. He wasn't scared of them per se, but he'd had a lifetime to learn the hard way that no one could truly be trusted, especially humans. When the couple had come outside, he'd run to his hiding place behind the garage and listened to their conversation. The woman was right. He hated oatmeal. Even the mice he had to catch and eat in order to survive were better than oatmeal. The liver had been good though.

It was dark enough that he could clean out the straw from his bed shelter. After three weeks, it was starting to smell and some stupid squirrels had tried to make it their nest. They knew better now. He would love to have washed the blankets, but couldn't afford to wait for them to air dry. His clothes smelled too. Hell, all of him smelled. Fall and winter were the hardest times to keep clean. There was less rain, more cold, and everything, including his fur, took longer to dry. Laundromats were out of the question, even if he did have the money for the machines. He debated tossing the straw in the trash. It would be the nice thing to do, but if he did that, the man and woman might not realize he needed new. So he spread it neatly over one of the flower beds. According to Old Lady Mercedes, straw made a good insulator for plants.

He debated going to the grocery store dumpster. It was dark enough and he was still hungry, but he was also sick. Stupid head cold. He was too drained to fight anyone off. This morning, he'd barely managed to escape the alley behind the deli unscathed. They didn't even have anything edible. Just some moldy tomatoes and something green that he assumed used to be lettuce or maybe cucumbers. Drug stores occasionally had old candy bars, cough drops, and ointment, but never cold meds. The methheads made that impossible. Even expired medicine that couldn't be made into something that could get you high was locked up and taken away when the next delivery came. That's what a homeless woman had told him. She'd said, "Why do you think I drink so much during flu season? Makes me forget that my lungs won't work." He understood now what she meant. He'll kill for a bottle of liquor, some NyQuil, which was practically the same thing, or hell, even a bowl of chicken soup.

When he'd run away from the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory, he knew life would be hard. He wasn't stupid. It was just that movies about the homeless guy with a heart of gold who works his way to the top and news stories complaining about "the homeless problem" never talked about the realities. He'd expected to be cold, hungry, and scared, but he had been those things at the Reformatory too...just in different ways. Worse ways. Way worse ways. 

When he'd run away, he thought it would be easy to escape Lima and make his way to a big city like New York where his kind were more accepted. Then the new laws were passed. Hybrids weren't considered legal citizens anymore. The conservatives with their bible thumping ways had gained power, proclaiming that hybrids were the sons and daughters of bestial, immoral, devil-divined unions. Hybrids weren't only illegal now, they weren't considered sentient. A dog had more rights than he did. Hybrids were once again the new slave race. They were also fair game for cops and any redneck, flag waving Jethro to use as target practice. He had tried to leave once, even gotten pretty far down Findlay Road, down to where it turned into OH-81. There was construction though on the Route 75 overpass. Too much noise, too many people, and not enough cover. It wasn't worth the risk; at least not yet. So, he'd hunkered down in town, learned which areas were semi-safe, which ones weren't at all, and which had the best pickings. 

What he hadn't counted on was getting sick. Or rather, he'd stupidly forgotten about how much it would suck to be sick while homeless. At least at the Reformatory they had a medic. Not a good one, but they would give you something to ease the symptoms. Out here, he had nothing and nowhere to turn to. The one medical clinic he'd been told was safe and that would take hybrids demanded money, more than he could scrape together. Feeling like he was on death's door last winter, he'd even tried a veterinarian's office. They laughed at him and then called the police. 

Giving up on the idea of going back out on the streets, he crammed himself back into the too-small, but at least semi-warm, shelter hoping that it was just a cold and not the flu this time. And though he hated to hope or put his faith in anyone, maybe if the woman followed through and did allow him to ask for what he wanted, she'd give him some medicine. She and Burt had already provided him with a coat on top of the change of clothes and hat and semi-regular meals. It was worth a shot anyway. 

* * * * * * * * *

It wasn't until two days later that some paper and a pen, sealed in a plastic bag, were left for him in the storage bench. The note was more elaborate than he'd expected. Not only did it ask what foods he liked, but there were examples both in written form and pictures just in case he couldn't read. Another page was filled with non food items such as toothpaste, shampoo, and clothing. Not finding exactly what he needed, he flipped the first page over and wrote, "Soup, socks, another blanket, and medicine, please. Thank you." He sealed the paper and pen in the baggie and put them back in the bench. He took the bowl of scrambled eggs and liver, it seemed to be the theme of the week after the oatmeal rejection, and crawled back into the shelter. He was too sick to do the usual rounds today, and at least here he could eat and sleep without too much bother. 

He was awoken hours later by the sound of someone moving around the storage bench. They opened it, left, and came back. When he was sure they were gone for good this time, Kurt crept out and opened the bench. Inside were the asked for socks and blanket; the soup placed outside of it in the usual spot. Instead of medicine though, there was the address and a map to the medical clinic. He sighed. They didn't understand. Hoping they wouldn't be upset, he wrote, "Thank you for the soup, socks, and blanket. Clinic costs money. Won't take hybrids without it. Please, medicine. Very sick. Sore throat, fever, hard to breathe." He added, "No allergies," in case that's what was stopping them from giving him some NyQuil or Tylenol. Didn't everyone have those in their medicine cabinet? He drank the soup, licked the plastic container clean as best he could, and then put it inside the bench along with the note. It looked nicer than the rinsed out food packaging containers they usually fed him out of.

Those tasks done, he wiggled under the fence that separated Burt's yard from the neighbor he called Jackass Charlie, and relieved himself. The guy had shit on his rights, so he was going to shit on his lawn. It wasn't an equal trade off, but it was some nice karmic payback. Besides, he was too tired to walk to the wooded area where he usually did his business. With that and a dodge away from the automatic lawn sprinklers, he went back to his shelter. More sleep would be good. Very good.

* * * * * * * * *

This time, Kurt didn't even startle when he heard talking and movement around his shelter. His fever was so high that he was sweating profusely now and couldn't have run away if he'd tried. Everything hurt too much.

"Bud, I know you're in there, and I promise that I'm not going to hurt you. Wish you'd figure that out by now. My wife, Carole, she's a nurse, and if you want, she can check you out. Just, leave a note or knock on the back door, okay? In the meantime, well, I cooked you up some soup. It's canned. That's the only recipe I know really, but it's chicken. There's some cold medicine too. Carole said it should be fine for you. And if it doesn't work, just, you know, leave that note or knock. We're just trying to help you as best as we know how. I'm really sorry if it's not enough. I gotta get to work. Take care of yourself, okay? We're here if you need us. I'll check on you later, Kiddo."

When Kurt heard the truck drive away and later, the car that he assumed belonged to Carole, he left the shelter to gather the new offerings. There was another change of clothes for him and he stripped out of his sweat soaked, soiled ones, relishing the cold breeze on his fevered skin. He pulled on the socks and added his old pair on top of them. Next to the clothes was the promised medicine and a thermos filled with hot tea. After struggling with the packaging, he managed to swallow the recommended two pills down and pocketed the rest for later. The soup wasn't sitting on the ground like usual. Instead, it was in a covered container, placed carefully in an insulated cooler inside the bench. There wasn't just one serving of it either, but many, all sealed and all still warm. He ate as much as he could of one and took another with him into the shelter, pausing only long enough to stash his soiled clothes behind it. He'd figure out a way to wash them later. For now, he needed to sleep. 

* * * * * * * * *

He lost track of time. There was only food, medicine, sleep, and bodily waste functions; and only the latter when desperate and he could gather up the strength to move. Eventually, his fever broke and it became easier to breathe. He was grateful for the humans' help and swore that he would make it up to them, somehow, someday. They were good people. Still scary, but maybe not so much anymore. 

A week later, he assumed it was a week, he was back to feeling like his old self. He also smelled worse than before, but now had a plan to fix that. First though, he was going to clean up Burt and Carole's yard. Maybe the rake had been left out by accident or maybe on purpose as a sign he should do some work, as it was with Old Lady Mercedes. Either way, he swept up the leaves and deposited them in the compost bin. When that was full, he put them in the trash bin after going through it for anything useful. It was hard, working in the dead of night, but safer than doing it in daylight. He wrote his benefactors a thank you note too, telling them the medicine and soup had worked. 

* * * * * * * * *

By morning, there was a fortunate break in the weather, the air unseasonably warm for November. He'd overheard Burt talking about being swamped at work and upset that Carole would have to make the long drive to pick up Finn from college alone. Kurt took this as his chance to get clean. He dragged an emptied plastic recycling bin behind the garage, away from prying neighbors' eyes, and pulled the garden hose along with it. It barely reached, but would do. Using one his precious filched bottles of shampoo, he poured half the contents into the bin and filled it up with water. He removed his layers of soiled clothing and scrubbed them clean as best he could, laying them over another empty bin after they'd been rinsed. He worked on the blankets next, laying them on top of the clutter inside the garage. He was glad no one had found the loose boards that were his secret entrance. It would take longer for the blankets to dry in there, but it was safer than leaving them in the woods where they could get stolen or on the laundry lines in Old Lady Mercedes' yard. He'd done that with his laundry once, thinking she wouldn't notice. Instead, she'd thought they were her late husband's and taken them inside. That was how he had lost last year's coat and other sorely missed clothing. 

His garments cleaned, Kurt worked on himself. He hated being naked in public and the water was freezing, but after the flu he'd just overcome, he couldn't take the smell and sticky feeling of dried sweat anymore. So he lathered up with the rest of the shampoo and soap and started hosing himself off, feeling soggy, but much better for it. 

Instinct made his body suddenly tense up. His ears flattened against his head, the fur along his spine stood on end, his tail raised, and his claws extended. His head swiveled to where the unfamiliar scent was and he found a black and curly-furred, male hybrid about his own age, rooting through the trash bins in a neighboring yard. Or at least, that's what the stranger had been doing. Now, he was staring at, ogling really, his nudity. 

Kurt glared at the guy and growled a low, "Go away." 

With a bashful grin, the man tried to make himself appear as harmless as possible. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything bad. I like your..."

Kurt blushed at the implication and hastily covered himself with a towel.

Realizing how he sounded, the other hybrid pointed to the bin of washing water. "I like your...your set up. It's a good idea."

"Please, go away!"

"I'm new here. Well, not here...here...but to the...the streets? Do you live here?"

"Sometimes." Kurt glared to get his next point across clearly. "They don't own me! I'm not their servant."

"I didn't think you were. Otherwise you wouldn't be bathing behind the garage unsupervised."

Kurt's blush crept back up his body, reminding him again of the state he was in. He pressed on though, determined to make the stranger leave so he could finish with a small amount of privacy. "You can't come over here. These bins are mine."

"I wouldn't dream of it. You marked your territory well. It's a nice smell."

"Are you ever going to go away? I need to finish before they get back. And you won't find anything good in those trash bins. The food scraps are too spicy and the non-food items are too broken to be useful."

Again, the stranger smiled. His grin larger than before. "Thanks. I'll remember that. I'm Blaine. You?"

His initial fear now lessened, he sighed before replying. "Kurt."

Blaine's face filled with delight. "It's very nice to meet you, Kurt."

"You're trying to keep up a conversation when I'm like this? Really? Go away." 

"Right. Sorry. I like to hide out by the abandoned K-Mart if you ever want to come by for a visit. It's over on..."

"I know it."

"Right. Of course you would. Sorry. I'll just...go away then."

Kurt waited until Blaine was indeed gone before finishing up his shower. This day had certainly turned out differently than he'd expected. He was now cold, wet, and honestly, a bit turned on at the possibility that there might actually be another gay hybrid in Lima. And not an unattractive one at that. Kurt scrubbed at his fur harder with the stolen towel. Oh, how he did not need to be dealing with this on top of everything else. There was too much to do and enough complications in his life. 

Now dry as he could manage to get, he pulled on the well-worn faded jeans and flannel shirt that had been left for him. The pants were too big and the hole cut for his tail wasn't in quite the right place, but they kept him covered. That's all he wanted right now. 

The tote he'd used for washing emptied and put away, he debated whether or not he should clean out his shelter and go back to sleeping under the porch until it was dry. It couldn't hurt. 

Oh, those were stupid words to think. He'd forgotten about the backsplash that a turned on hose could make within a confined space. Now he was wet again and no longer completely clean. He finished the task of rinsing out the converted storage bench and scrubbed at his face and clothes as best he could. 

That done, he headed to the abandoned junk lot. He took his freshly washed clothes with him. If the old Chevy was warm enough, it would help to dry them. Along the way, he did not think about the new boy. Get dry, get warm, watch out for danger, scour the humans' refuse for anything useable, and get back to Burt's house before the asshole raccoons ate the food left out for him. Those were his daily goals in life. Today was better than yesterday, yesterday was better than a month ago, and that was certainly better than a year ago. If he stopped remembering how bad things could be, if he let his guard down, it could return to that way again. The guy may have been cute, but he was still a stranger, and strangers meant potential danger. Arriving at the lot, Kurt checked it over. Finding it free of others, he spread out his clothes and then stretched himself out in a patch of sun, hidden among the tall, brown grass. First goal accomplished.


	3. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a hybrid without rights sucks, but some days suck a lot less.

\----------------

Kurt ran behind the garage, taking his nearly-dropped food with him when he heard the car pull into the driveway. Instead of Carole going quietly into the house as she usually did, there was a second voice and a lot of opening and closing of doors and the trunk of the car. Her son, the one who had been mean to him, was back home. Fuck. Now what was he going to do? Half of his things were still here and after being sick for so long, he wasn't sure if his secret stashes around town had been broken into. He needed more time to find an alternative sleeping spot and more energy. His brain may have become clearer, but his body was still shaking off the effects of the illness. The day had exhausted him already. 

Eventually, the noises stopped and he was able to get back to his meal. It was an entire take-out sub filled with layers of meat and cheese. Burt and Carole had never given him restaurant food before that wasn't leftovers. It was nice to be thought of when they were clearly too busy to cook for themselves. Nothing new was in the storage bin, but he didn't mind. Not after everything they'd done for him while he was sick. 

Kurt checked to see if his shelter was dry. It wasn't. He didn't know how to air it out without dismantling the protective insulation. He didn't want to risk damaging the vital layer. Having no other reasonable choice, he gathered up his one dry blanket, put on extra layers of clothing, and made his way to his old spot under the porch. It was still rocky and uncomfortable, but it would do. Safe in the knowledge that he was at least hidden from the view of passersby, it didn't take long before he was asleep.

* * * * * * * * *

"Hey, Buddy, something wrong with your shelter?"

Kurt awoke with a start; his eyes not even fully open before he was running from Burt. He needed to stop doing that. The guy wasn't going to hurt him. He knew that by now. Or he should. His damn brain still needed more convincing. When he returned after circling around the block to hide behind the garage, he heard the man talking to himself...well him, really. A sideways glance told Kurt that Burt knew exactly where he was.

"You cleaned your shelter? That was smart of you. Best thing to do after a nasty cold. I'll help you dry it out better. Put in some fresh straw too. If you don't want that though, you just let us know. Glad you're feeling better. Carole and I were really worried about you. Wish you'd have let her check you out. You're scared. I get that. Still, it's not right you having to be all on your own. Your kind, they didn't ask to be created. Hell, some scientists say dual evolution of two sentient species on the same planet shouldn't even be possible, and yet here you are and your race is just as smart as humans are. Probably smarter, if you ask me. Don't know why the bigots refuse to see that. Don't leave just yet, okay, Bud? I'm going to go get some rags and straw. Carole will be out with your breakfast soon. She's making pancakes."

Kurt didn't have long to wait before Burt was back, working hard to make sure the converted bench was dry and restocked with a thick layer of straw and a clean blanket. "Don't know where the rest of the blankets we gave you went. Not that it matters. If you need to trade them, that's fine. Or maybe you're using them somewhere else. Just 'cause you have fur, doesn't mean you don't get cold." Burt wiped off his hands as he stood up from where he'd been working on the shelter. "I think you're all set, Bud. I forgot to thank you for raking the leaves the other day. You didn't have to. We're not asking for anything in return. You're a good kid. You just keep writing down what you need and we'll try our best to get it. Oh, and Thanksgiving is this week, so be extra careful, okay? Schools will be out, more people around. You know how it is. Stick around here if you want to and make sure you come by on Thursday. We'll feed you up good. You take care, Kiddo. I'll go see if Carole has your breakfast ready."

Kurt was tucking the blanket he'd used last night into his shelter when he was startled again. For a split second he stared in fear at Carole and her son before running back to the semi-safety of the garage. 

"Hey, I know that kid! Matt saw him lurking around our yard last summer and threw an apple at him. Kid just picked it up and ran off. It was weird."

"Finn Hudson-Hummel, if I ever hear you doing something like that again, I will skin you alive! He's a sentient being! And even if he wasn't, it wouldn't give you the right to hurt him. I thought you were taking ethics this semester."

"What? I dropped it. It was too confusing. Professor Anagonye didn't make any sense. It was like he was speaking French or something. And I didn't say I hit the kid. It was Matt. I just thought it was weird, him picking up that apple and all. What's he doing in our backyard anyway?"

"I told you, we're taking care of him. Your step-dad and I were really sad when you went away. It's hard when a child leaves home, Finn."

"That empty bird thing?"

"Empty nest. You were gone, all grown up, didn't need us as much anymore. We've been feeding what we thought was a stray cat from time to time. Turned out, he wasn't really a cat. So we turned our instinct to nurture a child onto him. The kid is scared, Finn. He's got no one and no legal standing."

"Why doesn't he just live with us for real then?"

"Because it's not allowed. Because if the cops found out we'd be in a lot of trouble. We're taking a chance as it is, but we have to do something. So you be nice to him okay? And don't let your friends into the backyard. Don't mention Buddy to them at all, you hear?"

"I won't. I promise! Can I go back inside now?"

"Sure. I just wanted you to see for yourself, so you'd know to be careful and not disturb his area. We've barely got him trusting us as it is."

"I said I won't hurt him."

"Good. Go on then. I'm going to give him his breakfast and then get some shopping done before work. Why do people think it's a good idea to drink beer and fry a turkey? Every year, we get a flood of burns. It's worse than the Fourth of July." Carole looked around her. "And you're not even here anymore. Teenagers and their stomachs, am I right, Bud? Anyway, here's your breakfast. I only put butter on the pancakes, and don't tell Finn and Burt, but I gave you most of the bacon. You need it more than they do. If you need more medicine or some bandages, you let me know, okay? Or a check-up. We're here for you, Sweetie."

After Carole had gotten into her car and driven off, Kurt opened up the Rubbermaid container that had been placed on top of the storage bench. Everything was warm and smelled so good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had bacon. Real, cooked, unspoiled bacon. He tried to savor it, but it was of no use. His stomach wanted more and it was soon gone. He managed to eat the pancakes slower, saving the last one for later. Always pocket something for later. It was a habit that had served him well. 

Hunger sated, Kurt went to check on the blankets in the garage. They were still sopping wet. Needing them dry and not wanting Burt to think he'd stolen them, he laid them out on top of the shelter, storage bench, patio table, and barbecue grill. He was taking a chance that they could get stolen, but Blaine had said he could smell that the yard was marked. Still, he decided that a little precaution was better than none and proceed to rub his face against each blanket and pee a little around the area. He re-marked the outside of his shelter too. Fuck those squirrels if they thought they were allowed back in now that it was clean.

Satisfied, he made his way over to Old Lady Mercedes' house. She wasn't home and there weren't any lights on inside. Maybe she'd gone away for the holidays. She was always talking about this relative or that. The woman had more family members than he could keep track of. 

The library wasn't busy, but the worst of the librarians was working. He didn't even have to peer into the windows to figure it out. Her car was in the parking lot and the bumper stickers adorning it loudly proclaimed her bigoted views. For someone who swore that she was "thinking of the children!" she sure as hell didn't care about the hybrid ones, nor the young minds of her own race that she was warping. 

Refusing to waste another moment's thought on her xenophobic ass, Kurt moved on. Burt was right, there were more people about. Every shopping center was packed and he could have sworn he saw Carole's car pull into the Walmart. "Underwear. I need underwear." It was a silly, wistful thought that she could miraculously read his mind. He'd been too embarrassed to ask for some, too in need of more important things. He really missed them though. The hand-me-down jeans were chaffing him something fierce. His boxer briefs were one of the precious bits of clothing that had gotten taken by Mercedes. It wasn't her fault that she forgot sometimes that her husband had died.

Trying to keep out of the sight of people, he found himself behind the closed K-Mart. It looked more forlorn than before. Even the Super Cuts and McDonald's had moved on to more profitable locations now that the strip mall's anchor store was gone. 

"Hey, you came to visit me!"

Kurt looked around for the source of the voice, pissed that he hadn't seen or smelled the hybrid sooner. "I didn't come to visit you, Blaine."

"But you're here."

"I wanted to get away from people."

"I'm people."

"I forgot that you lived here. No one did before and I could never figure out why. It's a big store. You'd think more hybrids or humans would have claimed it long ago."

"Maybe because you can only get into the loading bay and the storage room didn't have much? There isn't anything inside the store that I can see and with all those glass windows, it's too exposed. That's just my guess. You've been around longer. The McDonald's is cleared out too. Not even a fry left. I checked. Lots of rats in the dumpster though."

Kurt shuddered at the thought. Mice were bad enough. "No, thanks."

"Yeah, they're biters. Really gross raw too."

"Couldn't you start a fire and cook them?"

Blaine's ears flattened against his head and he curled his tail protectively around himself. "No fire!" 

"Okay. Sorry. Where are you from?"

"Dalton Academy in Westerville."

It was then that Kurt noticed the patches of missing fur and scar tissue that ran along Blaine's neck and arm. His reaction to the suggestion of fire now made sense. "I am so sorry." 

"You heard about that?"

"Everyone did. Bunch of hood wearing racists form a mob to burn down one of the last safe havens for our kind down? Yeah. Word got around. Whole community still talks about it. Was it as good as they say?"

"The fire?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, the school."

Blaine sighed wistfully, climbing on top of the loading bay's ledge and encouraging Kurt to join him. "It was better, in some ways. Others, not so much. The place was beautiful. Wood, marble, winding staircases, crystal chandeliers. It was like living in a mansion or a castle. There was always music. I miss that the most. Our choir was the Warblers and I sang a lot of the solos. The academics were amazing too. Rigorous, but I learned so much. There was a lot of pressure though. Being a hybrid, you always felt that you had to prove that you were as good as, if not better than, humans. A 'B' wasn't good enough. It had to be an A+ and an AP course. The uniforms left a lot to be desired though."

"I know. I made them."

"You did?"

"Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory and child slave labor camp/orphanage/prison. I'm sure someone got a kick out of forcing the poorest hybrids and juvenile delinquents make the garments of the privileged ones. I was a secret rebel though. Want to see?"

"Sure."

"Take off your blazer. You shouldn't be wearing it in public anyway. Makes you too much of a target. At the least, turn it inside out. Better, remove all the embroidered patches and logos. Bury them, tuck them away in a hidden pocket. Never wear all of the pieces of the uniform together. Everyone knows it. Anyway..." Kurt took the jacket and with unsheathed claws began to pick at the stitching around the embroidered patch. When it was halfway removed, he showed Blaine what laid underneath it. "I stitched a secret 'K. E.' into each garment I made. They took everything away from me, but I wasn't going to let them take my existence. It proved that I was here. That they couldn't break me completely."

"You're amazing!"

Kurt laughed the compliment off. "I'm a badass rebel with a sewing machine. Don't you forget that. I could tailor your pants so tight you'd be begging for mercy." 

"I promise not to get on your bad side...again."

Kurt titled his head, his voice softer than it had been before. "Tell me more about Dalton."

"We had coffee every day. You needed it to get through all the homework and classes." Blaine smiled as he brought up the memory.

"I had some once. Took a sip out of the Commandant's cup. He never had a clue."

"Further proof of your bad-assery."

"That is true." The conversation lulled and silence lingered in the air between the two of them until Kurt braved the question he'd been wanting to ask. "Was it always a paradise? Even after?"

"After the Election That Stopped the World? No. Why is it that those who speak out against the 'devil's immorality' the loudest are the ones that engage in it the most? When the new laws were passed, some of the staff felt free to start treating us like the animals they thought we were. Teachers refused to teach. A couple of the teachers and administrators used many of us for...other things. There had always been rumors, but now they stopped hiding it and took more victims because they could get away with in." Blaine shook away the painful memory as Kurt edged closer to offer comfort. The community knew about that too. It was so prevalent that few were unscarred by it in one form or another. "The lunch ladies. They were nice though. They always made sure we had proper food. Insisted on it. And whenever one of us was planning to run away, they packed them enough to get by for a few days."

"That was nice of them. What about your parents?"

"Most of us were the kids of businesswomen and men, lawyers, politicians, a few royalty. The minute the tides turned, almost all of us who weren't from pure hybrid homes were abandoned. No one wanted to admit having a hybrid child, even the mixed race families who had fought hard during the election. After Twitter McDick came into power, having a hybrid family member was career suicide. Parents got death threats. Their business were picketed. That bombing of the court house in Cleveland was blamed on the same group of Pure Race Nationalists that set fire to Dalton. Some took their kids back, but not enough. Not in time. Mine didn't even come looking for me. It's like I never existed. So here I am."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, but thank you anyway." Blaine nudged Kurt with his shoulder. "Your turn. Are the rumors about the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory true? Are you all a bunch of bad ass rebels that needed to be locked away from proper society or is it solely a sewing machine wielding gang sort of place?" 

Kurt smiled at his companion's attempt at levity. "Both are true. Pretty sure there are other rumors you haven't heard about." His smile dropped as he looked down at his hands fiddling with them hem of his coat. "Do you mind if we swap the rest of our scars, both metaphysical and actual, later though?"

"I saw a few yesterday. I'm sorry."

Oh, there was the blushing again. Kurt turned his face away to hide it. 

Remembering what else he'd seen and blushing just as much, Blaine hastened to change the subject. "So what do you like to do in your free time, Kurt?"

"I like to sing when there's no one around and it's safe. This old lady that pays me to do yard work for her likes it when I sing with her. She prefers hymns though. I try to keep up with my education and the news so I read a lot."

"Well, I don't have anything educational, but I do have a couple of books you are more than welcome to peruse."

Realization dawned on Kurt's face. "Wait, was that romance novel wedged under the door last month yours?"

"Guilty as charged. It was pretty..."

"Noah couldn't do that with his..."

"And Lauren? I'm not that knowledgeable about female anatomy, but I'm pretty sure she couldn't do half of those things either."

"Don't get me started on the dialogue!"

"Throbbing tail. Has your tail ever throbbed, Kurt?"

"Once, when it was caught in a door, but I don't think that's what the author meant."

"And the other things. Have they never even seen a diagram of a hybrid? Googled basic anatomy and sex ed? Our bodies aren't like that. Still, Noah's abs and biceps were amazing. 'He ran with a power reminiscent of his feral ancestors. His body lithe, his muscles taught with a strength that made Lauren quiver.'" 

Kurt couldn't help but to laugh out loud. "If you memorized that, you desperately need more books to read. I'll bring you some."

"You'd do that? I thought you didn't like me and wanted me to stay away."

"You're growing on me. Don't make a growing joke. I don't think even an elephant is as big as they made Noah out to be."

Blaine scrunched his face in horror. "That would be really painful." His expression turned to one of curiosity. "Why do I think I keep smelling pancakes?"

Kurt pulled the remainder of his breakfast out of a pocket. "Because I have one? Did you want it?"

"Oh, no, Kurt! I couldn't take your meal. You keep it."

"But you said you were living on rats."

"I was eating them. Past tense. Now if I can't find something better, I drop by Madam Brittany's. The psychic over on Second Street? By Pillsbury Cleaners."

"Why would a psychic have food? Is it her house or does her office get a lot of take out?"

"It's both her house and a business. She lives in the apartment above it. She told me that I was a dolphin in a past life and keeps giving me fish. Her cat is really odd though, so I try to avoid him. Do you want to see my place?"

"You are too trusting, Blaine."

"And yet you've been talking to me all morning despite you making it clear yesterday that you wanted me to go away."

"I was naked!"

A pleased grin spread across his face. "Yes, you were."

"You shouldn't talk like that. It could get you into trouble."

Blaine shrank back, suddenly on alert. "With you?"

"No, not with me! Dalton must have been some kind of ivory tower paradise if you could be out there. At the Reformatory? The minute someone suspected I was...It got bad, okay? Really, really bad." Kurt subconsciously rubbed a hand across his chest, feeling the scars that had been left by one too many broken ribs. 

"I'm sorry. Come on, let's go inside. You can give me some tips about living on your own that my private school never thought to teach me."

Kurt looked at the darkening sky and the traffic zooming past on the main road that ran by the strip mall's parking lot. "I should get going. Rush hour is about to start and I want to make it back before then. Otherwise, I'll have to wait until the stores close and with holiday hours that could take forever."

"I understand. It was nice seeing you again. Thanks for the chat. It gets lonely sometimes, you know?"

"I know. I'll see you around, Blaine."

"Bye, Kurt."

On the way to Burt and Carole's, Kurt cursed himself for being too trusting. He had just met this guy. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew better. He had the nightmares to prove what a horrible idea it was. Friendships were rarely real. People, hybrid and human alike, were never to be fully trusted. He'd been lurking around Burt's house for more than a year and still wouldn't speak to the man. Yet here was a guy he'd only met yesterday and they were already chatting like best friends. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Kurt was still berating himself when he reached the wooded area a few blocks from Burt's neighborhood. He could smell the presence of multiple others, but couldn't see them. The increased press of people must have driven them in. He relieved himself quickly and left. He was too afraid to stop by the stream for a drink; the spot was popular and always made him feel vulnerable to an attack. It was safer to get water from the garden hose or ask Burt for some. He wondered if the man would give him coffee. 

Neither the car nor truck were in the driveway when he made it back to Burt and Carole's house. Nothing was left for him in the storage bench either. They were most likely still at work. Just as he was about to have his saved pancake for dinner, the back door banged opened and Kurt froze in his tracks. Their son, Finn stood before him, holding a paper plate in his hand. 

"Here, Dude. Mom said she wouldn't be home in time to make dinner and that I could order pizza. I thought you might want some. It's pepperoni. You can eat that, right?"

Wary, Kurt took the offered plate. "Yes, thank you."

"No problem. I'll see you later." With a satisfied grin that he had pleased his mom and done something good, Finn went back inside. 

Kurt stared at the offering as his brain tried to process the interaction that had just taken place. Screw the pancake. There were slices of heaven to eat!

* * * * * * * * *

In the days that followed, Kurt heeded Burt's advice and stuck around the house as much as possible. He tried his best to remain hidden from prying neighbors' eyes, fashioning a small covered area from the blankets like a kid's play fort he saw once on a TV show. It was better than being stuck in the garage or cramped in his sleeping shelter. He used the time to read. Trying to learn more math was pointless when Vogue's latest fashions out of Paris called to him. He wondered what their political view on hybrids were. Some were used in their ads, but there was never a photospread dedicated just to their unique design needs. Maybe such existed in some of the foreign editions.

He also used the time to mend and improve his clothing. As much as he wanted to do otherwise, he left the lion hat alone. Old Lady Mercedes was so pleased whenever he wore it that he couldn't bring himself to make it less embarrassing. The rest though, he could fix. He reinforced seams that were becoming undone, patched up worn spots, and turned his summer clothes into ones more useful for winter. Rather than adjust the tail hole in the chafing jeans, he decided to sew it up. They were large enough to wear over his sweatpants. He'd learned last winter that with enough layers and bad enough weather, he could sometimes pass as human. A homeless human who was angrily told to stop sleeping in the doorway of an apartment building that was leaking some amazing heat, but human, not hybrid, none-the-less. 

Despite the positive interaction he'd had with Finn and knowing Burt wouldn't hurt him, Kurt preferred to remain behind the garage or out of the yard entirely when meal time came around. It felt too weird to sit around and be catered to when he had nothing to offer in return. Yard work wasn't possible with the increased comings and goings of neighbors' friends and family up and down the street. Some had brought their pets which added new annoyances. He was pretty sure the yapper dogs would be someone's lunch soon - either by one of the new dogs or the man in the blue house who kept screaming at them to shut up. 

One night, Blaine had dropped by right before dinner and Kurt had not quite reluctantly shared his burger and fries with him. An advantage of Finn being home meant that he was getting fast food nearly every day. Pizza on Sunday. Burritos on Tuesday. Burgers on Wednesday. It was a really nice gesture even if the burritos had made him puke. At least he had been cutting through the yapper dogs' yard at the time, so it wasn't all bad. 

And honestly, neither was Blaine. He was kind and sweet and they shared a lot of the same interests. He had a brain and was more than willing to discuss the issues of the day, not just fashion and hybrid romance novels. Many of their kind were still fighting for their rights back. They attended marches and rallies, wrote letters, and made their voices heard. A lot though, were hunkered down, scared of being harassed, arrested, and losing what jobs they could find. They hated their fate and way of living, but with their right to vote stripped away, politics meant another day of resigned sighs as the news spouted yet another horrible thing the dominant political party did directly or allowed to happen. The world sucked and would continue to suck. The details were starting to matter less. 

Kurt didn't have much hope for their immediate future either. Blaine was a little more optimistic, but like Kurt, had the scars and nightmares to prove what their present reality was like. They knew about the ever-changing laws, the restrictions politicians at all levels of government were creating to get around protections and disenfranchise the hybrid and LGBTQIA+ communities even further. They read about the protests, the marches, the organizations that had sworn to help; even if those were mostly in the larger cities. Neither of them expected to live long enough to see real change, but there was hope for the next generation, or at least the one after that. If the world didn't end up in a ball of nuclear fire of course. 

* * * * * * * * *

Kurt was awoken early on Thursday morning by the smell of roasting turkeys and baking pies. Thanksgiving had arrived. A pair of slipper clad feet shuffled near his shelter and he heard a plate being set down. When the feet left, he peered out. There were two warm cinnamon rolls protected by a covering of plastic wrap. Kurt couldn't help but smile at the kindness. It was going to be a good day. A very good day. 

As Carole had predicted, some beer guzzling idiots on their street had decided to be manly men and deep fry a turkey, boasting that it would taste far better than anything their "little women" could prepare. The turkey was still frozen which made the eruption of oil and subsequent fire that much larger. Curiosity got the better of him and Kurt couldn't help but sneak under the front porch to watch the chaos through a hole in the wood and cinderblock foundation. There was a fire truck, a police car, an ambulance, girlfriends and wives screaming at their significant others, someone's drunk cousin blaming it on someone else's brother-in-law with his missed punch hitting one of the cops instead. Which naturally, brought in another police car. The kids of the family were filming the whole thing on their phones, laughing and taking bets as to whose would get the most likes on FB, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, and YouTube. Best of all, there was a giant charred turkey carcass abandoned on what was left of the front lawn. Every stray and wild animal on the block was going to have a feast tonight. 

After the fire had been put out, emergency service vehicles driven away, and a stack of pizzas delivered to the now turkey-less house, Burt had come outside with "just a few appetizers to tide you over, Kiddo." The first of the divided containers was filled with cheese cubes, a glob of nut-covered cheese log, crackers, sliced pepperoni, and marinated olives. A second contained an assortment of grapes, pineapple, melon, and strawberries. A third, Kurt couldn't believe there was a third, had carrots, celery, broccoli, cherry tomatoes, and ranch dip. Kurt ate the fruit first and then the cheese log and tomatoes. The rest he saved for later, knowing they'd keep for a few days if the air continued to keep its chill.

He wasn't even finished before Finn came out with a large bowl of tortilla chips, Fritos, Skyline chili cheese dip, and buffalo wings. The Vikings, or maybe it was the Lions, had scored another touchdown and therefore the victory was a cause of celebration for everyone. Which apparently included the "hybrid dude living in the backyard." 

Dinner came just a few hours later. Kurt had assumed more would come, but not this much. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, broccoli casserole, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, rolls, butter, and cranberry sauce. They'd even been thoughtful enough to give him a stack of napkins and plastic utensils.

Shortly before heading out for her shift at the hospital, Carole made sure there were slices of apple and pumpkin pie tucked together into one of the Meijer grocery store's bakery containers. 

As she was putting them into the storage bin, Kurt approached her. "Thank you."

"Oh, Sweetie. You are so very welcome. We were happy to do it. If you need anything, anything at all, Burt and Finn will be home. Just knock on the back door. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

"Take care, Buddy."

"Kurt. My name is Kurt."

"It's very nice to meet you, Kurt. Enjoy the pie." With a little wave and another smile, she left. 

Kurt had never been so fully sated in his life. For the first time in what seemed like ages, he was able to feast instead of feeding off of scraps. And the knowledge that he was cared for provided him with a warm comfort. He tucked in under the blankets of his shelter and drifted off to sleep, his body and mind at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to girlwitharabbitheart, margarita-sisters, and my beta, avengerco. This chapter would not have been as good without them.


	4. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's okay to have trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anne Hathaway said in interview once that she would love to play Kurt's wacky lesbian aunt; his mother's sister. I hope I did her envisioned character a little justice.

\-----------------

Bees. Why did there have to be so many bees? Weren't bees supposed to die or hibernate during the winter? And why wasn't the bug spray Mercedes had given him working? Kurt looked closer at the can. It was Lysol disinfectant. Just perfect. Bees didn't want to smell like a field of lavender. They wanted to eat a field of lavender and that now included him. After the fourth, or was it the sixth, sting he couldn't take it anymore and slammed the door shut. Let her hire someone else to clean out the shed. He was done. Done. Done. Done. Done. Also, he was in a fuckton of pain. With barely a mumbled, "sorry," to the elderly woman, he ran back to Burt's place. 

He had spoken to Carole twice now and he could do so again. He had to. His face hurt too much. Thankful that her car was in the driveway, he knocked on the back door. To his relief, it was answered quickly.

"Kurt? Do you need something, Sweetie?"

"Bees."

"What?" It was then that the nurse noticed the swollen lumps on the hybrid boy's arms and face. "Are you allergic?"

"I don't know."

"Are you having trouble breathing?"

"I don't think so."

"It just hurts a lot?"

Tears streaked down Kurt's face. "Yes."

"Do you want to come inside?"

"No."

"Okay. Stay there and I'll be right back with the medical kit."

"Thank you."

The woman returned shortly, arms full. "Sit down on the bench. Put the ice packs on your cheeks while I check your vitals." 

Kurt did as he was told and tried to remain calm. He'd been hurt worse before, but these were bees. A swarm of murderous, yellow and black demons. He flinched when his coat and shirt were opened in order for the stethoscope to be pressed against his chest, trying to hold back his panic over the action. He hated being touched, but Carole had never hurt him so far and he desperately needed her help. He needed to trust her.

"Take a deep breath for me. Good. Now another. Turn so I can reach your back. Thank you. Take another breath and try to hold it. Great. You can let it out now." Carole put the stethoscope down and picked up a pair of tweezers. "The good news is that your lungs are working properly so there's no cause for alarm. The bad news is that those stingers need to be removed. I'm not going to lie. It's going to hurt. Once they're out, you'll start to heal faster. Okay? Can you trust me?"

He nodded his consent. This was going to suck, but he didn't really have a choice. Not a better one that he could think of anyway.

Kurt was torn between watching the process and closing his eyes, so he did both off and on in turn. The ones on his arms and hands went smoothly, even if more fur than stingers were pulled out. The ones on his face created a whole new wave of pain that he couldn't help expressing with whimpers and another flood of tears. 

Carole soothed her patient with her voice, explaining each step as she went along. The poor kid was shaking. "The worst is over, Honey. You did really good and you were right in coming to me. I'm glad you did. We're going to make sure these don't get infected. I'm going to clean them with this wipe and then apply some ointment." She held up each in turn, not touching them to his skin until he gave his okay. Soothing him each time he flinched. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. Just two more and...there, all done." 

Carole gave Kurt a few minutes to recover while she uncapped a bottle of water and took some pills out of their packaging. "The red and white ones are Tylenol and the yellow are antihistamines. You'll probably end up sleeping for the rest of the day, but that's probably for the best. Are you sure you don't want to come inside?"

Kurt shook his head vigorously, whimpering at the effect the movement had caused.

"Shh...it's okay. I'm not going to force you into anything you're not ready for. How about the medicine. Can you take that?" At Kurt's nod, she handed over the water and pills in turn. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat before you go to sleep?" At Kurt's refusal, she stood. "Okay. Let's get you tucked into bed and I'll lay the ice packs over the stings."

Kurt did as he was told, grateful that he wouldn't have to move anymore. He flinched at the press of the cold packs, but accepted them as part of the treatment. He closed his eyes as Carole said her goodbye.

"That's right, sleep, Sweetie. I'll be back to check on you later and give you another dose of medicine. Burt will bring you some dinner if you're up for it. You were really brave today. I'm proud of you, and I am so sorry that you're hurt. Good night."

* * * * * * * * *

Kurt awoke to the sound of a soothing, feminine voice urging him to open his hand and swallow the items placed in it. He did as asked and drifted back to sleep, barely noticing the feel of the old ice packs being replaced with fresh ones. 

* * * * * * * * *

The next time it was a man's voice, a little gruff, but gentle. "Sorry about the light, Kiddo, but Carole insisted I look you over, make sure you were breathing okay, and see if the swelling had gone down. Do you have a fever? No? That's good. You up to eating something? I've got some soup and pepperoni rolls."

"Okay." Kurt crawled out of his shelter and took the offered food, eating it carefully. It was nearing nighttime, the sun sinking lower, leaving barely enough to make out his surroundings.

Burt shined the flashlight over his charge's face and arms again. "You are a poor sight, but from what Carole described, it looks like the swelling has gone down a bit. Are you still in pain?"

"Some."

"But not a lot?"

"Yes...no. It's better."

"That's good. There's more Tylenol and that other stuff if you want it. I have so many questions about how you got this way, Bud, but I doubt you're up to answering them." 

Kurt shook his head no.

"That's okay. That's our deal, right? I don't push and you go as slow as you need to. You got every right not to trust a single soul in this world. I could tell you that I'm not going to hurt you 'til I'm blue in the face, but that don't mean squat until you're ready. You already trusted us twice, don't mean you have to again. We're never going to turn you away. You need us, we're here." Burt adjusted his cap, trying to figure out how to say what was going through his mind. "Carole and I, we didn't go into this lightly. My first wife, Elizabeth, you would have liked her. She was always singing, planting this and that in the garden. She loved this yard. Had the same color of eyes as you too. We always wanted a whole passel of kids, but she died before that could happen. And Carole? Her husband died right after Finn was born. We didn't meet 'til he was a teenager; probably close to your age. You're what? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Sixteen."

"Real close then. We never got to have more kids, Kurt, and I'm not sayin' that you have to be that for us if you don't want it. It's just..." Burt took off his cap again. It was a nervous habit and he knew it. "You're not some temporary fix for us being empty nesters. We're not going to forget about you every time Finn comes home for a visit. We made a commitment to you and we're going to stick by it. What you need that to mean is up to you."

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Kiddo. I'll leave you to whatever you got to do. Just one last thing. When you go to do your...business...pick a different a spot in Charlie's yard. Vary it up a little. The grass is looking pretty dead by the fence and I don't want him getting suspicious and blaming us for it when he returns home from his vacation."

Kurt was grateful for the darkness as it hid his flush of embarrassment at being called out. He wondered what else he'd been seen doing. "Okay."

"You're a good kid, Kurt. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Burt." 

* * * * * * * * *

Burt approached the backyard as quietly as he could. his boots making only soft squishing sounds as they walked over the rain-wet driveway. He saw Kurt's body tense and ears swivel towards him, then hastily put a dead mouse into a pocket of his coat. If the kid was still catching his own food, he clearly wasn't getting enough to eat and he'd have to step up his game. Maybe Carole could recommend some vitamins. "Morning, Kiddo, can I talk to you for a minute? Nothing bad, I promise." Burt sat down on the storage bench trying to respect the boy's need for space.

Kurt inched a little closer to Burt, sitting down on the ground near the patio table, and nodded his okay.

"My sister, well, technically my sister-in-law as she was Elizabeth's sister, she and her wife will be dropping by for a visit today. They're moving to Canada. Anne, she's smarter than me. Saw the signs before President Malia got reelected and started the long process towards immigration early. Me? I thought a black woman president, that's as progressive as our country has been and things would just keep improving. She and Dani knew better; knew the conservatives would fight back and regain power. Anyway, they're trying for a better life, to keep their rights, maybe have kids someday. They'll be in the middle of packing and putting their house up for sale by the time Christmas comes, so we're going to celebrate a little early. They know about you and are fine with it. I know strangers are scary. We made a mistake not warning you about Finn coming home for Thanksgiving. So if you see a different truck in the driveway and hear new voices, that'll be them. Nothing else is going to change though. This is still your home whenever you need it."

"Thank you for telling me. How long?"

"How long are they going to be here? Only a couple of days. They're making the rounds, saying their goodbyes."

"Okay."

"You need anything this morning before I head off to work?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Burt's smile faded as he walked away, adjusting his cap. The kid was far from fine. He went inside the house to get a box of Pop-Tarts Finn had managed to miss during his visit, but by the time he returned to the backyard, Kurt was gone. 

* * * * * * * * *

Kurt hated rooting through the dumpster at the 7-11. There were always needles lying around it, the place reeked of pot, and he'd come across enough used condoms to last a lifetime. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for, to be honest. It was just a habit by now, part of the routine. 

He had heard Walmart's dumpsters were great, but the homeless humans pretty much had full control over them. The manager of the store hated hybrids and would always chase them off. She'd turn a blind eye to the humans though, calling them "urban freelance recyclers - nature's talking ants." Sylvester, he thought her name was. 

Kurt pocketed an expired tube of toothpaste and picked up a mystery meat hot dog, sniffing it to see if it was still edible.

"Hi, Kurt!"

Automatically on alert, Kurt looked up, ears flattened, claws extended, ready to fight. He relaxed a bit when he saw who it was. The black curly fur and too innocent grin had become increasingly familiar. "Hi, Blaine." 

"What are you doing?"

"Growing kumquats for a holiday feast. What's it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're about to eat a dismembered rat tail...or is that a finger?"

"What?" Kurt looked closer at the mystery meat and dropped it. "Ew! Gross! I am so done with this place! Move back. I'm climbing out." Kurt hoisted himself over the edge and managed to not land, for once, on the remnants of a methhead's private party. 

Blaine helped Kurt brush dumpster debris off of himself. "So nothing good?"

"Some old toothpaste. What were you looking for?"

"Shampoo, conditioner if possible. A pair of socks would be nice. Someone told me I could find some here."

"Yeah, inside, next to the spray paint if you want to huff it. Come back around 3 a.m. The night clerks will sell you whatever you need. Or they'll...trade...you for it if you're desperate and don't have any money."

"Why would I want to huff socks?" 

Kurt laughed when Blaine finally got what he meant. 

"Oh, the paint. No, thank you. My feet are cold."

"I have a spare pair if you want them."

"Oh, no. I couldn't if you need them for...that kind of thing. No judgment from me, Kurt."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh again. Blaine was too cute for his own good. He was also going to get eaten alive out here. "I don't huff paint, Blaine. Burt and Carole gave me a few pairs when I was sick. Consider it payback for not letting me eat a finger."

"Deal. Can we get out of here? I think I just stepped on a condom."

"You read my mind. Where do you want to go?"

"My place?"

"Sure. Why not."

* * * * * * * * *

Blaine pulled the loading bay door open just far enough for the two of them to crawl under. The interior was smaller than Kurt expected and nothing more than a cinderblock room piled with a jumble of empty wooden palettes and a broken conveyor belt. Two metal doors on the far wall led to what Kurt assumed was either a storage room or main part of the store. If it wasn't for a couple of high placed windows, the interior would have been plunged into near total darkness.

Taking Kurt's hand, Blaine climbed up the mountain of palettes. When they reached the top, he pointed proudly a large pile of mismatched clothing hidden within. "I call it my nest."

"It looks like one." Kurt studied it carefully, shaking his head at what he couldn't find. "Where's your escape route?"

"My what?"

"Is there a door behind that mess? A tunnel through the palettes or wall?"

"No. I was going for hidden and 'nothing to see here'." 

"They'll be able to smell you. Hybrids will at least and the attack dogs the cops use. You need an escape route." Kurt took a deep breath to try and calm down, his flattened ears betraying him none-the-less as he climbed down to the floor. "Please, trust me on this. What about those doors? Storage room?"

"One of them yes. There's not much in it. I only found a box of clothing returns and a case of pineapple and kale protein bars."

Kurt huffed out a grunt of annoyance. "Which you can't eat. How could an entire race be allergic to kale?"

"Genetic glitch?"

"Blaine, I think the fact that we exist is proof enough of that. What did you do with the protein bars?"

"I traded them with a homeless woman named April for a bottle of cheap vodka. She kept honking my nose and telling me I was special."

"I know her. She's good people. Won't turn you in. Helped me out a few times."

"That's good to know."

Kurt returned to the more pressing matter. "Can you escape through the storage room? What about the other door? Is there a window not so high up?"

"There's a door that leads into the store from the storage room. The store is empty and I was always too scared to go in there. Too visible, you know? There's a window in the employee bathroom I could maybe crawl out of." He pointed to the door with peeling blue paint with a shrug. 

"You have a bathroom?"

Blaine grinned at the happy response. "With running water. Somebody forgot to get it turned off and keeps paying the bills."

"You are a man of riches! I'm impressed."

"And you are a man of knowledge. Come on. Show your proper nest building, escape route ways."

It was a struggle to move all the palettes without making too much noise. Every drop and bang made Kurt flinch and Blaine run to the loading bay door to peer out and see if anyone had noticed. As the day waned, it took the limited natural light with it. Figuring that the resource was worth using, Blaine turned on his flashlight, hoping the batteries would last. It was supposed to only be for emergencies, but Kurt's fear forced him to realize the seriousness of the situation. 

Eventually, the task was done and Blaine now had a both a side tunnel and a bathroom window exit in his new nest, hidden in-between the re-jumbled stack of palettes and the bathroom.

"Thank you, Kurt. I couldn't have done it without you."

Kurt shrugged the compliment off. "Stay safe, Blaine. Don't forget to re-mark everything. I know it's disgusting, but it helps keep animals away and sometimes other hybrids."

Blaine couldn't stop himself from rubbing his companion's cheek with his hand, right where his scent gland lay underneath the skin. "Who were are isn't disgusting, Kurt. It's an adaptation we have that they don't. And I wasn't lying before when I said I liked your smell."

Kurt leaned into the caress. Letting himself enjoy the touch, not realizing until now that it was a vital sensation that had been missing from his life. His smile lingered after Blaine dropped his hand away. "Stop by my place tomorrow. I'll give you some socks and better books."

"You love Noah's throbbing tail just as much as I do. Don't try to deny it."

Laughing, Kurt pulled up the loading bay's door. "Good night, Blaine."

* * * * * * * * *

Kurt's mind was still focused on Blaine, this time happily so, when he emerged from behind the garage and entered the backyard fully. The woman sitting with Burt at the table and drinking beer wasn't Carole. This one had paler skin and long black hair. Warily, he crept back to the semi-safety of the garage, ready to flee if this wasn't the sister Burt had told him about.

"Oh, Burt, you didn't tell me he was from the Lima Heights Reformatory."

"What? How do you know? He never said a word about it to us."

"His ear is clipped. That's what they do to mark them. Left for the boys, right for the girls. Makes it easier to count them during line up and for cops to spot runaways."

"Poor kid."

"He's lucky. Up till the '90's, they used to brand their chest."

Burt ran a hand over his face, sighing deeply. "They still do. Carole thought she saw it when she was checking him out a couple of days ago. It sounded so crazy that I thought maybe she was seeing things. This explains so much." He took a drink from his bottle of beer and caught the hybrid's eye. "You looking for your dinner, Bud?" 

Kurt nodded, grip tight on the edge of the garage, ears back, wanting to run, but trying hard not to.

"It'll be a little late, but I can get you something to tide you over. An apple or granola bar okay?"

Kurt nodded again.

"This is my sister that I told you was comin' over."

"Hi, Kurt. It's nice to meet you." When the boy didn't respond, she continued. "We're in your space, aren't we? I'd be upset too. How about I make it up to you? Do you like cheesecake? My wife, Dani makes the best cheesecake in the world. People can say what they want about New York style, but I will continue to swear that no bake is better. What do you say?"

Kurt nodded his head emphatically.

"Great!" She stood, smile plastered on her face, and leaned in to whisper to her brother, winking to the hybrid as he overhead. "And now I have to run to the grocery store and ask Dani to cook after spending the last four hours driving here. She's going to love me." 

Burt laughed with his sister as they headed inside, teasing her along the way. 

* * * * * * 

"I like your shelter. It looks comfortable."

"It's a bit cramped. When I'm restless, I sleep under the porch. It's where I spent a lot of last winter, so I'm used to it."

"Let me guess, it has exits?"

"Two of them and a peephole to the front street so I can see what's going on. It's a trade off. The shelter is warmer and more hidden, but the underporch is easier to escape from."

"Why don't you ask Burt to expand the shelter?"

"I don't think he can or could. He said it needed to look like the other patio furniture so the neighbors don't notice. It's fine, really. It could be worse."

Blaine pulled his head back and closed the flap to the entrance. "What about the garage?"

"Too filled with junk. I can sleep in there in a pinch, but I wake up with a bad headache because of the chemicals."

"That sucks."

Kurt shrugged the matter off and opened up the non-converted storage bench, retrieving some of the items inside. "Here's the socks I promised you."

"You don't have to do that."

"A deal is a deal, Blaine."

"Thank you." Blaine took the offered items, removed his shoes, and put them on. His feet immediately felt better. They were new and warm and so cozy. It was amazing what became a luxury when you were out on the streets.

"Carole left a note and some food. Said she accidentally bought a bag of pepperoni rolls filled with cheese and that she and Burt prefer the kind without." Kurt held up the bag. It wasn't a small package enough for two people, but a family-sized one with the word 'cheese' in large, orange lettering on the front. "I think she needs to work on her subterfuge." He peered back inside. "There's also juice and a bottle of vitamins. I'm sensing a theme here. Let's have some lunch. You don't get to say no, Blaine. It's a twenty four pack of rolls and a half gallon of juice."

"Okay, we'll have lunch." Blaine beamed at the first thing Kurt offered him. It wasn't food. "Is this the latest issue of Vogue?"

"If by latest, you mean five years old that I found behind the Super Cuts by you, then yes."

"You're amazing!"

The two ate and read together in happy companionship, enjoying the afternoon, huddled under blankets to keep warm. Neither realized they'd fallen asleep, curled up upon each other, content. 

* * * * * * * * *

"Aww, Burt, you didn't tell me Kurt had a boyfriend."

Kurt woke with a start, his mind filled with terror at those words. He crouched protectively over his sleeping companion, poking Blaine with his hand, urging him to wake up so they could run. 

"Stop it, Anne, you're scaring the kid." Burt finally caught the boy's eyes that wouldn't stop darting between the two of them. "Hey, Bud, remember that deal we had? That promise I made to you? This doesn't change anything. I told you, this is a safe place. You know Anne has a wife and I got no problem with that. Thought maybe you'd have figured out that included you as well. Aint nothin' wrong with more love in the world. Am I getting through to you?"

Kurt nodded his assent, body still tense, and hand over Blaine's mouth so the now-awake hybrid wouldn't talk.

"Your friend is welcome to come over any time. Just be careful, okay? We've been lucky with you, but two of your kind, any kind, are harder to hide. And remember what I told you about being able to see some things you didn't think I did? Just, well, if you two want to do...things...pick a more secluded spot."

Kurt blushed at the implication, his eyes wide. "He's just a friend."

"That's fine. Same rules apply. I want you safe, Kiddo."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Your friend have a place to live?"

Kurt nodded. His hand on Blaine relaxing a bit and moving away from his mouth. 

"That's good." Burt turned to his sister. "Now if Anne here can stop scaring you for a minute, she brought you a present."

Kurt's face and ears perked up with interest. 

The woman smiled at the reaction and held out a covered pie tin. "I promised you cheesecake in compensation for violating your space. Of course now I guess I owe you a second one. I think I'll let my wife bring that out. Have you met her yet?"

Kurt shook his head. His nose twitched at the wonderful smell, and involuntarily, he took a step forward, eyes now solely on the cheesecake.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I left half plain, half with strawberries. It contains cream cheese, lemon juice, sweetened condensed milk, and vanilla. And then there's whatever is in a graham cracker crust. I don't make them. I just eat them. Are you allergic to any of that?"

"No."

"Can I put it on the table?"

"Yes, please!"

Laughing, Anne did as asked, nudging her brother to leave the paper plate and fork he'd brought along. "Come on, Burt, we'll give these boys some privacy to eat while you tell Dani that it's your fault Kurt got scared and needs another peace offering."

"Not a chance."

"I'll buy you a 6-pack of that skunky beer you like."

"Make it two."

"Deal."

As they headed inside, they couldn't help but overhear Kurt's delighted squeal.

"Blaine, there's cheesecake!"


	5. A Very Naked Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many times was Blaine going to see his dick? Kurt really wanted to know. Or maybe he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a more lighthearted tone & is more Kurt's voice than complete third person. I felt it necessary in order to keep Kurt's sarcastic sense of humor. I hope it works. TW: There is a non-graphic reference to past non-con in the last scene.

\-------------------

How many times was Blaine going to see his dick? Kurt really wanted to know. Or maybe he didn't.

The first was when he was bathing behind Burt and Carole's garage. An embarrassing way to meet someone, but at least he'd turned out to be a nice someone who'd become his friend.

* * * * * * * * *

The second was in the wooded area near Burt's neighborhood. A resource Blaine had discovered, like himself, during the first few weeks he'd been homeless. The whole local hybrid community knew it as a place the cops wouldn't come near unless the conservative bigots decided to start an uproar and demanded that something be done about the "ungodly, inhuman perversions" that had invaded a space they normally didn't care about. Kurt had been through one of those raids before and barely escaped. It was not something he ever wanted to experience again. 

Today though, everything was calm. There were only a handful of others around, each minding their own business or conducting it with each other. Trying to heed Burt's advice, he'd stopped going to the bathroom in Jackass Charlie's yard. Well, stopped doing it as frequently. Kurt had thought the bush he'd chosen would hide him while his body painfully refunded Burt's latest attempt at cooking. He'd thought wrong. 

Kurt tried to warn Blaine off as he approached. He swished his tail, shook his head, flattened his ears, and held up the hand that wasn't holding onto his dick, everything to prevent the hyper hybrid's inevitable, bouncy greeting of, "Hi, Kurt!"

Unfortunately, Blaine did not get the hint. He did however get a free dish of embarrassment, realizing that he'd come upon his friend relieving himself. He moved away and found his own patch of woods to do as nature intended. 

They parted ways after that, secret, quiet smiles exchanged. The most Kurt felt safe enough to do in the view of others.

* * * * * * * * *

The third was when Blaine had come to visit Kurt right as Finn was yelling at him for marking the yard. 

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?!"

Pissed at being caught, well, pissing, Kurt had retorted back, "Trying to keep the damn cats and squirrels away from my stuff. You got a better idea, I'm all for it!" It was the most he'd ever spoken to Finn, but damn it, what the hell else was he supposed to do? Cheek markings weren't enough and that fucking cat kept stealing his dinner. 

It's not like he was naked and on all fours with his leg up in the air like a common dog. He was standing, his junk barely outside of his sweatpants, and being held in his hand. If he had been wearing a letterman jacket, he would have looked like a typical high school jock taking a drunken whiz. Minus the fur and tail, of course. 

At least there was good to come out of the incident. Instead of getting in trouble or being told that he wasn't allowed around anymore, Burt and Carole had started putting all of his meals in resealable plastic containers and tucking them inside a small cooler that had been placed by the storage bench. 

Only when Finn, home for winter break, fed him, did he now lose meals. Finn hadn't grasped the concept that just because you put a plate of food on a table, didn't mean a cat couldn't get to it. Or the squirrels. He had lost a whole bowl of cereal to those beady-eyed assholes. Blaine was right, humans were idiots.

* * * * * * * * *

The fourth was on Christmas Day. It was pouring. The kind of rain that doesn't let up and brings with it bursts of thunder and lightning. Despite multiple offers, Kurt wasn't ready to enter the Hummels' home. It was too big of a step. He'd survived more than a year on the streets with far less to his name and in worse physical condition. One storm wasn't going to hurt him. 

Burt in his gruff, yet gentle and understanding way, had thrown a large tarp over the grill, table, chairs, and shelter. It didn't offer a lot of protection and the ground was still a giant puddle in places, but it was something. To any nosey neighbors, it would look like a guy protecting his barbecue grill and patio furniture. 

It was also the first Christmas Kurt had ever received presents. Real, store bought, useful presents. Burt had given him a pair of sturdy, flannel lined pants. From Finn, he got a scarlet and gray Ohio State University hoodie. And then there was Carole's gift. Carole, bless her precious, motherly heart, had read his mind and bought him an entire multi-pack of underwear. It took less than a minute for him to cut a hole for his tail and only a few minutes more before he was standing out from under the tarp in the middle of the patio and stripping off his sopping wet clothes, eager for the dry warmth of his new ones. 

"Merry Christmas, Kurt!" Blaine had barely gotten out the greeting when his jaw went slack. Eyes roving over Kurt's body and ending up in the most obvious, inevitable place.

With a smirk, Kurt pulled the sweatshirt over his head. "See anything you like?"

"Go, Buckeyes?"

Kurt let out of huff of laughter and picked up the briefs. As he tugged them on, he was unable to resist a squeal of delight and dancing shimmy. They fit! They fit and they were cozy and never again would his bits be the victim of zippers and irritating fabrics. The fact that his antics had caused Blaine's brain to misfire again was an added bonus.

Blaine and a now fully clothed Kurt alternated between sitting under the table and under the porch. The ground was wet no matter where they took shelter, but they paid it little mind. Carole and Burt generously provided them both with a verifiable feast of roast beef, scalloped potatoes, macaroni and cheese, peas with pearl onions, glazed carrots, dinner rolls, rice pudding, huge slices of cheesecake, and a large container of homemade sugar cookies. Kurt found the ambrosia salad off-putting and had never been a fan of ham; dishes his friend had no problem with and eagerly ate. 

As if the day hadn't improved enough, Blaine had begun to quietly sing to him. "Baby, it's cold outside..."

To which Kurt naturally joined in. 

It was cold. It was rainy. It was the most miserable weather Ohio had seen that season. Yet it was the best Christmas Kurt had ever had. He was full. He was warm. And he was cared for and loved. 

* * * * * * * * *

The fifth time was just a few days after Christmas and it was snowing.

"Hi, Kurt! Are you dancing or...? Oh, you're having alone time! I'm sorry. I'll leave."

Kurt stopped the wriggling of his body and looked up from he were he lay on the ground, naked. He realized that he was indeed hard, but not for the reasons his friend had assumed. He wanted to be embarrassed, but given that this was far from the first time Blaine had seen him in some state of undress, he was over it. "I'm taking a bath."

"In the snow? Aren't you cold?"

"Yes, but if I move fast enough, it melts. Plus, I'm itchy." He twisted his body, getting more of his back to rub against the patio's floor. "The brick helps scrub the dirt out and I get the added bonus of brushing away the snow. No snow means it's less noticeable when I mark and keeps my footprints to a minimum. Not exactly dignified, but it works."

"Do you want some help?"

Kurt looked down. His erection hadn't waned. In fact, it was larger than before now that it had a better reason to exist. "And have Burt think you're helping me with other things? No, thank you."

Blaine's eyes glazed over at the implication and parts of his body reacted to the idea. "You could bathe at my place. I have running water...and privacy."

Kurt's dick twitched with interest and he knew then it was a lost cause. Honestly, there was no reason to continue fighting his attraction. A bath and...other things...sounded perfect. "Okay."

It took an hour to get to Blaine's place and another lengthy stretch of time to check the perimeter and tell-tale signs should anyone have broken in. The romance novel was still in place, wedged under the loading bay door in exactly the spot Blaine had left it. The interior smelled only of him and the birds that called the shelter home. Getting to the bathroom through the maze of pallets and over the nest-bed wasn't easy either, but at long last they made it. 

Kurt smiled when Blaine showed him to the bathroom's two sinks and generously offered him what was left of his bar of soap and a washcloth. When he turned to leave, Kurt stopped him. "Where are you going?"

"To give you some privacy."

"I thought you wanted to help me take care of things."

Blaine's eyes grew wide as he comprehended the offer. "I would love to."

Kurt was the first to move, pressing his lips to Blaine's, opening up his mouth with his own so that his tongue could follow. He tasted and was tasted in kind. Kurt really, really liked kissing Blaine. 

Blaine rubbed his face against Kurt's cheek, breathing in the scent of him. He moved on to kiss at the pulse of his neck, then back up to his mouth. 

Kurt did the same in the kind, smelling, licking, tasting, filling his senses with Blaine and blocking out the past. "This is different. This is wanted. This is consensual. This is Blaine." The mantra ran on a loop inside his head. He and Blaine had both been through hell. This time would be the opposite of that. He was going to make sure of it.

They removed each other's clothing slowly, layer by layer, in agreement with each new step. Kurt had never seen Blaine naked before. The burns on his body were more extensive than he'd thought. 

Blaine squirmed under the scrutiny. "I'm sorry if I look too..."

Kurt tenderly brushed his hand against the blemished skin. "Your scars don't make you ugly, Blaine. They're proof that you're a survivor."

"So are you." Kurt felt Blaine's lips graze across the star and scythe that had been burned into the flesh right above his heart when he was just six years old. That was the only scar he truly hated. The only one he hated that he could see, at least. The others he staunchly wore as proof that he couldn't be broken. Abused and beaten, but never to the point where he couldn't return. He pushed the thoughts aside and re-focused on the pleasure Blaine was giving him, offering up the same in return. 

"What do you need, Kurt?"

"You. Just you."

Blaine laughed. "You know what I mean."

"Not Noah and his acrobatics? Just us. Just this. What about you?"

"This is great. This is perfect." Blaine moaned as their erections touched and Kurt brought his hand down to stroke them both in unison. "Really, really perfect. Better than perfect."

Kurt arched his back as Blaine lavished attention to his neck, chest, and nipples. He sped up the hand stroking their cocks, using the other to explore and touch, his tail an erratic flurry of expressed emotion. When Blaine launched another series of trailing kisses, he was done for, cuming over his hand, the moisture mixing with Blaine's only a few strokes later. "We need to do that again!"

Blaine let out a weak laugh, "Now? I don't think that's possible, Kurt."

Kurt brush his tail against Blaine's inner thigh. "No, not now. Soon. And many more times."

"As many as you want. You were amazing."

"So were you."

Blaine grinned at the mess between their bodies. "Do you want to take that bath now?"

"In a minute. Trying to catch my breath. Are you going to help?"

"I did offer. A deal's a deal, remember?"

Kurt kissed Blaine deeply, enjoying his body's response to the touch. "Oh, I hope to remember this for a long time."

Eventually, Kurt did get cleaned up and so did Blaine. Again and again and again. They fell asleep in Blaine's nest, warm and secure. 

Kurt awoke to the feeling of laying upon a softness he wasn't used to, the smell of his surroundings different, but not frightening. A tail that wasn't his own came into view and the body it was attached to snuggled closer. Waking up next to Blaine was nice. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly, reminding him that while the sex had been great, missing dinner, a meal that it had been getting used to having on a daily basis, was not. That damn stray cat better not have eaten it. He wondered if Burt and Carole were worried about him, happy to have someone who would. That was nice too. Scary and unknown, but nice. 

"Blaine, I have to get back home."

His boyfriend pulled him closer; something Kurt hadn't thought possible. "No, stay."

"You can come with me. There should be breakfast. We missed dinner."

"I can't take your food, Kurt."

"You wouldn't be taking. You'd be sharing. You can't tell me that you're not hungry. I can hear your stomach."

"I'm purring."

"Hybrids don't purr."

"Maybe I'm advanced."

"Or maybe you slipped back on the evolutionary scale."

Blaine laughed at the playful insult. "Fine, I'll share your breakfast. But I owe you a meal since I made you miss dinner."

"You didn't make me do anything, Blaine. I enjoyed every minute of it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Blaine trailed his lips and hands down Kurt's neck, spending time with his nipples before finding their way to his cock. "Do you want to repeat that experience?"

Kurt sighed dramatically as his dick reacted with awakened interest. "I suppose I can make the sacrifice." He returned the touches and kisses with enthusiasm. "Best way to start a day, ever."


	6. Origin Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine open up about their pasts. Kurt and Burt bond more.

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"Hey, Kiddo. How come you're going through the garbage? Are we not giving you enough to eat? Is there something else you needed?" Burt couldn't help but notice Carole's hairbrush in Kurt's hand. The handle had broken on her as she was rushing to get ready for her shift at work. At the kid's feet was a stained towel that had been used to wipe up some water in the basement when the slop sink had overflowed, a bottle of liquid hand soap too depleted for the pump to work, a worn toothbrush he was pretty sure had been used to scrub the grout in the bathroom, and some old athlete's foot cream that Finn must have tossed. 

Kurt froze in place. It was early, too early for the neighbors to spot him and the Hummels had never had a problem with him going through their trash before. "I'm trying to help out Blaine. Is that okay?"

"Of course it is. Do you want us to pick up some groceries for him?"

Kurt shook his head and cautiously added the brush to the pile. "You don't have to. I can share mine. Thank you though."

"It's no trouble, Kurt. With Finn away at college, our grocery bill is a fraction of what it used to be. Is Blaine allergic to anything?"

"Kale and collard greens, but all hybrids are. Too much cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, and chocolate makes us sick, but we can eat it if we have to."

Burt sigh was visible as a puff of white in the cold air. They shouldn't be eating anything that made them sick, let alone from garbage cans. "You don't have to answer. Has he been homeless long?"

"Only since summer. I'm helping him, teaching him, so he can live better and won't get hurt like I did." The hybrid rubbed subconsciously at his elbow. It still bothered him from time to time. It was one of many lessons he had learned the hard way when he'd run away. The Reformatory had taught him many skills, but not all of them applied out here.

"You're a good kid. I know I'm always sayin' that, but you are. Did you know him from your old school?"

Kurt flinched at the reminder, but continued on. "No. He went to Dalton."

"That fancy hybrid school that mob attacked?"

"Yes."

"Was he there when it happened?"

Kurt wiped at his eyes. "Yes."

"Is he okay? Does he need Carole to check him out?"

"There are a lot of burns on his body, but they looked healed to me when I saw him nak..." Kurt blushed at what he'd admitted to. "I can ask. That's nice of you for offering."

"Are you boys being safe? Do you need anything? I think there's some kind of family life clinic where you can get..."

Kurt took multiple steps back, shaking, and ready to run. "No! Others have said that place is bad. Very bad. They...they don't want us breeding so they..." Kurt took another step back, pleading with the man who had only be kind to him so far. "I won't ever touch a girl or get her pregnant. Please don't make me go there!"

"Hey! No one said anything about that. I would never hurt you, Kurt." Burt ran a hand over his face and sighed. This was going all wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was traumatize the kid more. He'd had this conversation once and he could have it again. Surely human and hybrid boys weren't that much different, straight or gay. "I was just making sure you boys had protection from...diseases. When Finn started being active, we made sure he had...supplies. I'm offering the same to you if you need it."

Kurt stopped shaking, but his eyes grew wide and his whole body flushed with embarrassment.

"Just think about it, okay? Our providing for you doesn't just stop at meals and clothing."

Kurt nodded, unable to say anything. Mortified they were having this conversation.

"Well, now that I've embarrassed us both, how about we have a discussion about New Year's?"

Kurt looked at Burt warily, letting him continue even if he was unsure about where this was going. 

"Carole has the afternoon shift at the hospital so we're going out tonight. Finn wanted to know if he could have a few friends over. I won't let him though if it would make you uncomfortable."

"I can go to Blaine's."

"Where's he live? Is it somewhere safe?"

"At the closed K-Mart." Kurt shrugged. "It's safe enough."

"Do you want a ride over?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Kurt, I'm not trying to kick you out. If it would be better for Blaine to come over here, that's fine. Finn can go to one of his friends."

"It's fine. Blaine won't mind."

Burt nodded. One step at a time. "Thank you, Kurt. Carole and I won't be leaving until eight, but we'll be back before morning. Finn's friends will probably start coming over around six or seven. I can tell him later if that's a problem."

"No, no problem."

"Don't think we're forgetting about you, Bud. Carole made sure both you boys will have something to eat."

Kurt smiled at the kindness. "Thank you."

"Are you sure I can't give you a ride?"

"I'm sure."

Burt retrieved a small black device from his pocket. Time for the next step. "Can I give you this at least? It's nothing fancy. Just a pay-as-you-go cell phone, in case something happens. In case you need us. Our numbers are programmed in. People go crazy at New Year's. We worry about you, Kiddo."

Kurt took the device and stuck it in an interior pocket of his coat, protecting it from possible damage and theft. "Thank you. I'm sorry for not telling you when I spent the night at Blaine's last week."

"You're used to being on your own. I get it. Thank you for the apology though. I've got to put a couple of hours in at the garage, but Carole should be home any minute. Don't leave until she gets here so she can give you the snacks. Is that alright? She can drop them off if you have some place else you need to get to."

"I can stay." Kurt smiled. "Have a good day at work."

"Thanks, Bud." Burt reached out to place a hand on Kurt's shoulder, but seeing the boy flinch, he pulled back. He wasn't naive. He'd heard the rumors about that hellhole the kid had escaped from. The ones that everyone ignored and pretended weren't true. It was the main reason he and Carole had agreed to take him on and try to make his life a little better. Kurt was coming around. Progress was being made. That was something. He was showing the kid that he mattered and that's what counted. "Have a good New Year, Kurt."

"You too, Burt."

* * * * * * *

Kurt crouched on the edge of the parking lot, hidden by dead ivy clinging to a broken fence that bordered one side. He checked the back of the K-Mart carefully, looking out for any trouble. Every few days, a bored cop would do a lap, checking to see if any drug deals were going down, as if the 7-11 didn't have enough to go around. This time, the police seemed to be occupied elsewhere. He smelled Blaine before he heard him approach. 

"Hi, Kurt!"

"Hi, Blaine. I'm surprised you can see me."

"Why?"

"I'm not naked. Thought maybe clothes were like an invisibility cloak to you or something."

"No. I'm just that lucky."

Kurt couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He liked having a boyfriend. He liked having Blaine as his boyfriend.

Sexually loaded banter or not, and hands wanting to touch but not allowed to in public, Blaine kept a slight distance. "You smell nice."

"I smell like hors d'oeuvres."

"That's what I meant. You smell nice."

Kurt laughed. "Have you been gone long?"

"Half the day? Help me do a check?"

"I was already on it."

Finding the K-Mart safe, the boys entered the loading bay and sat themselves and their bags down inside.

Blaine snuggled close to Kurt's side. "What did you bring?"

Free to do so now that they had privacy, Kurt kissed his boyfriend before opening up his bag. "I have no idea. Carole handed me the knapsack, then asked me to wait. She came back out and just kept adding more and more. I swear it weighs a ton. You?"

"Carole gave me food too when I checked to see if you were home. She said you forgot the lasagna and chips."

Kurt's eyes bugged out. This was going to be another Thanksgiving with enough food to last him for a week. He was really loving holidays at the Hummels. 

"I have something else too."

"Do tell!"

"April gave me half a bottle of champagne. Said she snuck into the kitchen of some fancy party pretending to be one of the wait staff and took off with a full case of it."

"And she just gave it to you? You didn't have to trade?"

"I may have helped her find the house she was crashing in. She was kind of drunk. But don't worry! I was really careful and disguised myself to look human just like you showed me - extra scarves, tail tucked into my pants, and everything. Plus, the house she's living in is up for sale and nobody lives there. I don't think the neighbors noticed anything."

"I'm glad you were safe." Kurt let his eyes wander briefly over his boyfriend and blushed. They both may have been dressed in multiple layers of clothing, but he knew intimately what was underneath and that he wouldn't mind exploring all of it again. "So...do you want to make out or eat first?"

Blaine looked embarrassed. "Can we eat? It smells so good."

"Sure. Let's see what we have." Kurt reached into his knapsack and began pulling out containers as Blaine began to do the same until there was a veritable feast between them on the floor. He pried off the lid of the one closest to him. "Ooh, mini quiches! Open one of yours."

"Lasagna! Your turn."

"Mozzarella sticks and marinara sauce."

Blaine opened another one of his. "More lasagna."

"Pizza rolls and pizza bagel bites. Why would you need both?"

"Maybe they were on sale?"

Kurt shrugged. "Maybe. Next."

"Chips and salsa." Blaine turned his nose up at the latter. He never understood humans love of spicy foods. His own stash not as great in volume, he pulled out the last container, this one quart sized and filled with brown balls covered in gravy. "What are these?"

"Swedish meatballs. You'll like those. Carole made them when Anne and Dani were over. They're really good."

"I can't wait. Your turn again."

"Pigs in a blanket."

"Real pigs?"

Kurt looked at him askance. "Along with other animals that went all swirly." He opened up another container. "Like these mystery meat triangle things and these mystery meat tube things."

"I think the tube ones are taquitos." He picked one up and took a bite. "I'm not sure if they're edible though."

"We scour dumpsters and garbage cans for scraps, Blaine."

"Good point. Still..." He put the odd item back where it came from. When he was really hungry and there was nothing else left, then he'd eat it.

Kurt pried open another red-lidded container and his eyes went wide. "Look, shrimp! Not a lot, but still, shrimp! I've heard they're really good."

His boyfriend nodded in agreement. "They are. Anything else?"

"This one is labeled crab dip. It smells good." Kurt looked at the baggie that had been placed near it. "There's crackers too." He retrieved a larger, green plastic container from the bag. "Cheesecake! So much cheesecake! I'm eating that first! You may or may not get some."

Blaine laughed. "Hedonist. Any honey barbeque buffalo wings like we had on the day after Christmas?"

"No. I think they saw me throw up in the yard after Finn gave me wings last week. In my defense, they were super spicy. My throat was burning for days."

"Any forks?" 

Kurt dug around the knapsack to check and pulled out two boxes, his face going red immediately from the heat of his blushing.

"I don't think those are forks, Kurt."

"No, those would be lubed and non-lubed condoms, Blaine."

"That's very...parentally protective of them."

As much as Kurt wanted to look away, his eyes remained glued to the brightly colored boxes. "Burt had the sex talk with me this morning. He asked if we were being safe."

Blaine shifted uncomfortably. "Does he know about before?"

"Not directly, but I think he suspects. Isn't it common knowledge what happens there? Everyone's always turned a blind eye to the abuses of hybrids, Blaine. You and I both know that firsthand. History is ripe with enslaved populations. It just keeps being our kind's turn again and again." Kurt shoved the boxes of condoms away with his foot, wishing they'd protect him from his memories too. "At least I wasn't one of the Commandant's favorites; not until the end. So there's that."

The painful silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of popping, little bursts that were almost like gun fire. Panicked, they rushed to the storeroom to peer out of the window leading to the store. From the store's large wall of glass, they could see bursts of color in the sky. Their mood brightened immediately.

"Fireworks!"

* * * * * * *

Pink, green, and yellow light from glow bracelets that Blaine had liberated from a closed pop-up Halloween store illuminated a corner of the loading bay. The two boys sat apart from each other, yet close enough to touch. Nearly half of the food had been eaten, containers stacked haphazardly out of the way. Meeting each other sip for sip, Kurt and Blaine passed the near empty bottle of champagne between them. The alcohol making them brave enough to speak their truths. 

"Tell me something new, Blaine."

"I never learned the true value of pi or what it was used for because I kept getting stuck on why would people only want three point one four pies, Why wouldn't you want four whole pies or even five? What kind of pies are they? Do you get a choice? I don't like rhubarb or coconut. It would suck if those were the only kind of pies I was allowed to have."

Kurt laughed along with his boyfriend. "You are too adorable. Tell me something else."

"I am the secret love child of former Lima Community Theatre star, Bryan Ryan."

"No way!"

"It's true. He and my mom went to the same high school together, hooked up at a reunion, and nine and a half months later, it was pretty clear that I was not Paul Anderson's biological son. They pretended that I was adopted as a playmate for my older brother and shipped me off to Dalton as soon as the school would take me."

"Wait. Didn't she show? It's not exactly like we're born kitten-sized."

"How do I put this? Mom was a...very social drinker. Emphasis on the very. When she started to show, she told her friends she was 'going to the spa.' Which of course is code for rehab."

"Wow!"

Blaine sighed. "Yeah. Your turn."

Kurt thought for a moment before responding. "I hate the musical, 'Cats.' A couple of the songs are nice, but I find the story to be too odd. Plus, it's racist that they only use hybrid actors unless they're stunt casting a famous human. It encourages the stereotype that we're nothing more than talking house cats instead of a fully evolved branch of the evolutionary tree."

"I can't disagree with you on the last point. The others...I enjoyed it. I used to sing the songs and put on little one man shows for myself. My stuffed animals helped of course."

"Of course."

"Mister Tiger played a very convincing Old Deuteronomy."

"I'm sure he did."

"Tell me something about your childhood. Something good."

"I don't really have any good memories, Blaine."

"There must be something. At least one?"

Kurt toyed with the edge of a plastic lid as he replied. "My mom would sing to me as she tucked me into bed. She told me the songs would keep me safe when she went off to work. They didn't. Not really, but I liked to pretend they did. She was always working, two jobs, more often three, trying to scrape by. No matter much she worked though, she always found time to sing to me. She'd curl me up in her lap, hug me tight, and we'd sing. I felt loved."

"What happened to her?"

"I heard she died, but I don't know how. I was only six when they arrested me and put me in the Reformatory."

"Arrested you? For what? Not coloring in-between the lines?"

Kurt curled in upon himself, looking anywhere but at the person beside him. "I was grocery shopping with my mom and I wandered away from her. I was hungry. I was always hungry. And I took a donut from the bakery case and started eating it. Some woman started screaming slurs at me and my mom. I didn't really know what they meant at the time. Next thing I know, I'm being pulled away from her, put in handcuffs, and taken to some kind of group home. I saw a social worker about a week later. She said my mom no longer had custody of me. That was the day they hauled me off to the Lima Heights Hybrid Reformatory and when I got branded and they cut off part of my ear." Kurt tugged on his hat and wrapped his coat tighter around himself, trying to hide his scars further.

"Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry!"

Kurt grinned wistfully. "I told you. I'm a rebel. I steal donuts and stitch my initials into the clothing of prep school boys. Well, now I steal more things, but that's for survival, so it doesn't count."

"Kurt."

He shrugged the matter off. "It is what it is, Blaine. I can't change it. Same as you can't change what happened to you. The only thing I could do was figure out a way to escape and eventually I did. I survived. I'm still surviving, but it's better now. That's something, right?"

"Of course it is." Blaine gathered his boyfriend in his arms and held him tight. It wasn't the same kind of comfort his mother had given him, but it was all he could offer. 

* * * * * * *

"Damn, it!" Burt turned towards Kurt, alert, but clearly sleepy, who was making his way down the driveway towards the truck. "I didn't mean to wake you, Kiddo."

"You didn't. I was coming from Blaine's. I wanted to get an early start before the traffic. Easier to stay out of sight that way. Are you okay?"

"Two of my guys called out and we're already behind. This time of year, everyone's got either got engine trouble or suddenly realizes they need snow tires. Just because it's the day after New Year's doesn't mean there isn't work to be done."

"Can I help?"

"You know cars?"

Kurt nodded. "It was one of the skills I was taught in order to be more productive at the Reformatory. We serviced all of the county vehicles. Commandant Ryerson and the guards would bring theirs in too."

"I'm not going to ask you to do anything that would make you think of that place."

"It's okay. I want to help."

Burt adjusted his cap, considered the offer, and came to a decision. "Only on a couple of conditions. You get paid. Fair wages, same as I'd pay my crew. I'll have to hide you, maybe have you work after hours when the shop is closed, but you wouldn't be locked in or forced to work all day. And you take a break anytime you need to. What do you say?"

"Better than cleaning out Old Lady Mercedes' bee shed."

Burt laughed. "Can't disagree with you there, Bud."

"Do you need me now or later?"

"Now would be great if that's okay with you."

"It is. Can I put away my stuff first?"

Burt waved him on. "You do your business. I left breakfast for you in the cooler, but we can pick something else up on the way if you want."

"No, thank you. I'm sure it's fine. I'll be right back. Promise."

Burt smiled after the boy. How could anyone have not wanted that kid as their own?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my husband and proofreader of 20 years, avengerco. Thanks also to margarita-sisters, notenoughtogivebread, and girlwitharabbitheart for their help with some details.


	7. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the Burt and Kurt feels with a side of Blaine and Carole.

\----------------

Carole had just unloaded a bag of empty cans into the recycling bin when she noticed a familiar face walking into her back yard. "Hi, Blaine. Are you looking for Kurt?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I told you before, call me Carole. Kurt went in to work with Burt. I'm not sure when they'll be back. Did you need something, Sweetie?"

"Just him. To say I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

Blaine's face was awash with anguish. "I made him think of his mom and the day he got taken away from her. It wasn't exactly a happy new year for him." 

"Oh, Honey, I'm sure he knows it's not your fault. You boys have had it so rough. How you came out of it alive, I'll never know."

"Kurt had it worse though. Dalton was a pretty safe place until the election."

"Kurt mentioned to Burt that you were in the fire and got burned. Do you want me to take a look?"

"I think I'm fine. I got some medical care before..."

"Before you became homeless?"

Blaine nodded.

"It's up to you."

Blaine weighed the matter for a few moments before replying. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not. I'm no expert, but we do see our share of burns in the ER. Are you okay to come inside? I think it's too cold now to do an exam out here, despite what Kurt would have you believe." Carole rubbed her arms. Her sweater wasn't warm enough and she'd only been outside for a few minutes. How the kids were living in this weather 24/7, she didn't know. 

"He's scared. He really likes you two and is grateful, but it's hard for him to trust."

"Can't say I blame him. He's a truly sweet kid though. We saw that from the start."

Blaine smiled. "He is."

"Okay, let's get you checked out. Is the back porch okay? It's covered and you'll be able to see Kurt through one of the windows when he comes home."

"Okay." Blaine followed Carole inside. It wasn't a large space and used more as a mud and junk room than a porch, with a storage bench, coat hooks, boots, and snow shovel taking up most of the area. An old bike, sports equipment, and a stack of boxes cluttered up the other half of the room. The porch wasn't warm, but it did keep out the wind that had added a biting chill to the air. 

Carole turned on the portable space heater and directed her patient to the bench while she went inside to wash her hands and retrieve the medical kit. "Can you take off your coat and shirts? Or do the burns not go down that far?"

"A little further than that on my right side. I ran into a doorway when I was trying to make it outside."

"Only remove what you feel comfortable doing. How's that? I can work around and maintain your privacy."

"Thank you." Blaine took off his coat, sweater, and undershirt. Taking a deep breath for courage, he unzipped his pants and tugged them down, quickly covering his private areas with the T-shirt. 

Carole pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and began the examination, gently touching the skin here and there, careful not to press too hard or stress the edges where they blended with non-damaged tissue. "I think you're right in that your skin has healed fairly well. I'll give you some ointment to put on to help keep them that way. Do you have access to clean water and soap?"

Blaine looked away, embarrassed. "I have water, but I let Kurt use the last of my soap. I can try to find more. Kurt says the motel is a good place. You just have to time it right when the Johns are all gone and the maid leaves the cart unattended when she goes to clean the rooms."

"The Johns?" It took Carole a minute to process what he'd said. "Oh! I can just give you some, Sweetie."

"That's okay. I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure I can get some."

Seeing his forced cheerfulness, she changed the subject, making a mental note to "accidentally" give Kurt extra or slip a bar in with the tubes of ointment. "I'm not sure if your fur is going to fully grow back."

"The doctor didn't think so either."

"Is there anything else you wanted me to look at?"

"No, thank you, but thank you. I was worried because of how it looks."

"I understand. Burns are nasty things. The scaring will improve, but it'll take time. Are you in pain?"

"Sometimes, but nothing that I can't handle."

"Can't handle or are forced to handle? I'll be able to tell, Blaine. I fixed Kurt up when he had a face full of bee stings. Poor kid tried so hard not to let it show."

"I'm fine. Really." 

Blaine's smile was more genuine this time so she let it go. "Okay, I believe you. If you change your mind at any time, just ask. Get dressed and I'll whip you up something to eat. Do you like eggs?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose. You gave us so much yesterday."

"Finn eats twice as much as you boys combined." She laughed at Blaine's look of disbelief. "I may have overdone it on the lasagna, but it'll keep for a few days and I wanted to make sure you didn't go without."

"That was very kind of you."

Carole removed her gloves and packed up her kit, standing up to leave and give the boy his privacy. "You are a very kind young man. I'm glad you and Kurt found each other."

"So am I."

* * * * * * *

Burt drove his truck into the garage of Hummel Tires & Lube, then shut the bay's door. Only after checking the windows around the shop, keeping as many blinds as he could closed, and then turned on the lights, did he let Kurt know it was safe to climb out of the backseat where he'd been hiding under a blanket.

Burt gave him a quick tour, showing him the racks of supplies, tool racks, rows of tires, employee break room, office, and the bathroom. When Kurt glared at one of the trucks on a lift, plastered with racist bumper stickers, Burt nodded with understanding. "I know it sucks, Kid, but without their money, I couldn't pay the mortgage. Don't get too upset though, I charge them more and use cheaper parts." He pointed to an older model car, this one with a singular, right wing political bumper sticker. "This guy though? That sticker is just for show, to keep his car from getting vandalized. He's a hybrid with two kids and a wife. His wife lost her job at the pizza place and his kids had to be pulled out of school for their safety. We'll treat them right and only charge for the parts we can't spare. Sound fair?"

Kurt nodded and relaxed a bit. This was all so new, but he could do it. He had to repay Burt for all he'd done for him. Raking up leaves in the fall and then shoveling the driveway and cleaning off the cars every time it snowed wasn't nearly enough. 

"I'm going to make coffee. Want some?"

Kurt's ears perked up. "Yes, please!"

"Go, snoop around and see if any of the gloves will fit while you're at it. Remember, Kurt, you're free here. You don't have to ask my permission to go to the bathroom, take a break, anything. Got it?"

"Yes. Thank you." Kurt left to do as told. Much of the equipment was the same as at the Reformatory, and the smells were similar too. There was a difference though. It didn't smell of fear, of too many hybrids forced to live cramped together in deplorable conditions, nor of the humans who openly abused them. It smelled simply of oil, tires, and one he was starting to associate with the feeling of home.

Burt called him over when the coffee was ready and Kurt took a sip, recoiling a little at the taste. He added milk and it improved immediately. The buzz was nice too. As they drank, he answered Burt's questions as to how much he knew and what kind of vehicles he'd worked on. 

"How about we work on the Camry first? Get Mike all squared away so he'll have one less thing to worry about."

"I'd like that."

The tune-up done - spark plugs changed out, filters replaced, fluids topped off, and electronics checked, Kurt wiped down the car's interior. He smiled at the child's drawing he found in the backseat. It was of a family, tails too long and heads too big, but they were holding hands and smiling. He carefully laid it back down and went to clean the outside of the car too. 

They went to work on the other vehicles next, Burt driving them in and out as required. Only once did Kurt face Burt's disapproval. 

"Put the money back in the change holder, Kurt. We overcharge the bigots, but we don't outright steal from them. Got it?" 

How Burt had caught him, he didn't know. The man was shoulder's deep in an engine across the bay. Grudgingly, Kurt did as he was told. And if he spit on the nationalist's seat while doing so, well, that was just an accident. 

Three hours passed quickly and Burt called a stop to the work. "Time to drive you home so I can open up, Kiddo. You did a really good job. I'm proud of you. If you liked it, I'd be happy to have you back. If you didn't, that's fine too."

Kurt beamed at the praise. "I can work more."

"I'm glad." Burt reached into his wallet and pulled out some bills. "Honest work deserves honest pay. You earned this. If you're afraid to have it on you, we can find a place in the yard or one of the porches. It's up to you."

Kurt's eyes bugged out. He'd never had a fraction of that much money before. "Thank you. It means a lot."

"You want some more coffee before we head back?"

Eyes wide, Kurt retrieved his coffee mug, "Yes, please!"

Burt laughed. "Guess we'll be adding a thermos to that cooler of yours."

 

* * * * * * *

As Kurt made his way to his shelter in the backyard, he was greeted by a door slamming shut and a bundle of black fur hidden behind layers of winter clothing.

"Hi, Kurt!"

"Hi, Blaine. What are you doing here? I just saw you this morning. Do you need to go scavenging? I already found you a few things, but we can go after I...." He was interrupted by a hug.

"I came to cheer you up!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm sorry for making you sad last night."

Kurt sighed with a forlorn smile. "Blaine, I'm always sad. It's always going to hurt. That's never going to go away, but you make it less so."

"Can I show you my surprise?"

"Sure."

Blaine led Kurt to the patio area that had become his home. Under the tarp-covered table were a couple of sleeping bags on top of a foam mat. "Carole said that she, Burt, and Finn won't need them again until it's warm enough to go camping. So, now I can stay over here if I want to or we can just use it for snuggling."

"Snuggling or...snuggling?'

"We're not that hidden, Kurt."

"I know. I was just teasing."

Kurt kissed his boyfriend chastely. "This is a great surprise. We'll be warmer at least. I always wanted a sleeping bag, but could never find one."

"There's more!"

"Do tell."

Blaine retrieved an item hidden within the folds of one of the bags and then bundled the two of them up inside, pressing his boyfriend close. "Carole let me borrow her iPad, so I could show you this." He swiped at the screen to activate it and a video appeared. "'Cats', on ice, and performed by hybrids!"

Kurt didn't hold back his burst of laughter. "You're ridiculous."

"Just wait until you see it."

Kurt watched, amazed and mortified at the same time. "Is that guy pretending to lick himself?"

Blaine squinted at the screen, then rewound that part of the video to watch it again. "I'm not sure he's pretending."

"Well, that makes it more horrifying. Is this a farce, serious, or porn?"

"That's a really good question. I only saw the first few minutes. It looked funny. And with your deep, eternal love for the musical....Hey!" With a mocking glare, Blaine rubbed his side where he'd been poked. "I could show you the version where they use real cats, in costume, and with their meows spliced together for the lyrics."

"You wouldn't dare!" Kurt kissed his boyfriend again and rubbed his cheek against his face. "Thank you, Blaine. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Kurt." 

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Kiddo. Sorry to interrupt your reading. Carole said that Blaine didn't have any soap, and I noticed what you were getting out of the trash and...well, I picked you boys up some things I thought you could use." Burt tried not to laugh at the look of mortification on Kurt's face. "Don't worry, it's not condoms. Unless you need more?"

Kurt's eyes grew wide. "No!"

This time, Burt did laugh. "When you do though, you let me know." He handed over the bags. "It's mostly just toiletries - soap, shampoo, deodorant. I'm not sure if hybrids want deodorant given your nature to make sure your territory smells like you, but I got it anyway. Unscented though, if that helps." 

"Thank you."

Burt adjusted his cap and took a deep breath. This last part wasn't going to be easy. "Carole said when she examined Blaine she noticed a couple of fleas. Thought he might have mites too. With you two being close and all, it was safe to assume you might too. Living rough isn't easy, human or hybrid. I've seen the hose dragged out behind the garage and your clothes and blankets lying out to dry. And with winter here and the water needing to be shut off so the line doesn't freeze, it's got to be harder for you to keep clean. These things happen. You'll get no judgment from me, okay? When I was over in Findlay picking up some parts for the garage, I bought you some stuff that should help with that. It says it's for hybrids. Of course, you're also welcome to come inside and use the shower any time you like. We don't even have to be home, Kid, if that'll make you more comfortable. I can leave you the key."

Kurt looked into the bag. He was embarrassed, but mostly felt relief. "Thank you. I did need it. I try, but it's hard. I was going to buy some now that I had money. At the Reformatory, they sprayed us down once a month with a special solution. It was orange and gross, but it worked. We had showers too, but the guards and the other guys..."

"It's okay, Bud. You don't have to tell me. I'm really sorry. And I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"No, it's okay. It's not like it wasn't true. Now I won't itch as much. So, win?"

"I'm glad. If I didn't get you the right stuff, we can look online and place an order. How's that sound?"

"That sounds good. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Kiddo. Do you want a ride over to Blaine's?"

"No, thank you. It might not be safe for you if the cops see a truck there and yours has the tire shop logo on it."

"I never thought about that. If you need anything though, just ask. We're here for you."

"I know. Thank you."

"I'll see you in the morning then." Burt turned to leave and then remembered the other bag he had in his truck and went back to retrieve it. "I almost forgot about this. Don't tell Carole, but I stopped by Long John Silver's after getting the parts. The food's a bit cold by now, but there's fish, chicken, shrimp, onion rings, and hushpuppies. The whole super sampler platter minus the coleslaw so you don't go getting sick."

Kurt opened the bag and inhaled the fried, fishy goodness eagerly. "Wow! Thank you!"

"And don't go thinking you have to share it with Blaine. I got him the same thing too."

A squeal escaped the hybrid's lips and his eyes lit up with joy.

Burt laughed. "Go on. Go see your boyfriend. I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt."

"Do you need help in the shop?"

"Sure do. Bright and early or after dark?"

"Early is good."

"I'll see you then, Kiddo."

"Good night, Burt. Thank you."

* * * * * * *

"Care to help me change the oil, Kurt?"

"Okay."

"Do you want to be the helper or the guy who gets stuck under the car?"

"I can be the guy. Oil changes are easy."

"You really do know your way around a garage, Kid."

"I can sew too. If you want to start doing upholstery repairs." Kurt grimaced at the SUV on the lift. "Some of these vehicles could use it."

"You might just have something there. I'll look into what it would take to set it up and get back to you."

"I could make you a list of supplies and tools?"

"That'd be great, Kurt."

The pair worked for in relative silence for awhile, exchanging only that which was needed for the oil change. Complaining good naturedly at the mess of it all, but agreeing that it was part of the bread and butter of the business. Grime was part of the deal. 

Taking a break for coffee, of which Burt tried not to laugh at because the kid loved coffee and the donuts he'd picked up on the way to the shop. "How are you handling the weather, Kurt? Be honest."

"It's cold, but the sleeping bags and shelter are great. So much better than last year. Thank you. I warm up sometimes at the library."

"Is that how you spend your time?"

"Some days. When the nice librarians are there. Others won't let my kind in. They call us vermin."

"You have a right to be there same as anyone."

The hybrid shrugged. "Sign says different."

"What about on the days you can't get in?"

"I help Old Lady Mercedes with her yard, shovel her snow, do other outside things. She pays me in hot chocolate."

"Doesn't that make you sick?"

"Yes, but it's warm. She doesn't mean anything bad by it. Just forgets."

"It's nice that you help her, Kiddo."

"Some of the buildings leak heat. Those are nice. Everyone knows them though, so..."

"So, they're not always safe?"

Kurt nodded.

"We've got that back porch for you if you want it. Blaine's been there. He tell you?"

"Yes." Kurt looked up sheepishly. "Is it okay though, that I'm not ready to yet?"

"Of course it is, Bud."

"This winter really has been better thanks to you and Carole. It means a lot."

"We were happy to help. You mean a lot to us too." Burt grinned at the boy, so badly wanting to pat him on the back or give him a hug. "If you're done with your coffee, we can go check out Beiste's truck. The man cannot remember to use the clutch. He's why I was able to get the premium sports package on cable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I grew up near Ohio and try to make all the foods as regionally appropriate as possible. There really is a Long John Silvers in Findlay. According to their website, it's 34.4 miles from Lima. I really miss LJS. Give me all the fried fish and crispy bits of batter!...And now I'm hungry. lol!


	8. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blizzard has come to Lima, OH. Fun Author's Note: In my head, it's Allison Janney's character, Ms. Perky, in "10 Things I Hate About You" that is the author of the hybrid romance novels Blaine and Kurt read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note for TW: ====== separates a scene depicting the memory of a graphic rape & additional acts of non-con/molestation. The scene may be skipped entirely without any major loss of understanding of the storyline. The chapter continues after the second =======. Revision note: I made Ryerson even creepier than he was before.

\---------------------

"Hey, Buddy. I brought you some pancakes, bacon, and milk. We're trying to use up what's in the fridge in case the power goes out. The news says there's a big storm coming. Could be up to two feet of snow with ice and high winds depending on how the front shifts. I know you say you're not ready, but if it gets to be too much, here's the key to the back porch. We'll keep the heater running. There's extra blankets and those instant hand warmer packs for you too. Blaine's welcome to come over as well." Burt adjusted the woolen hat on his head. "Just, think about it, okay?"

Kurt took the key he was offered and put it in a pocket. A pocket that hadn't held a mouse in weeks thanks to this man. "Thank you. I will. Do you want help in the shop today?"

"No, I think I'll be fine. Going to close up early so the crew can get back to their families before the storm hits. You going to see Blaine today?"

"Yes, and Mercedes. She has a new home health aid, but I don't know what his schedule is. I want to make sure she'll be okay."

"That's real nice of you. Is your cell phone charged?"

"Yes. Carole took care of it last night."

"That's good. Have a good day, Kurt. I'll check in on you when I get back."

"Thank you. Drive safe."

"You...walk safe, Bud." Burt smiled and headed to his truck. He had tried. That's all he could do.

* * * * * * *

"Hurry up, Kurt! I'm trying to take you on a real date before the snow comes."

Kurt pressed his scarf over his face, trying in vain to warm it up. "Take me another time, Blaine. It's freezing out here."

"I can't. It's our four and a half month anniversary. One if you only count the day when we first kissed."

Kurt looked around them before replying. There were no other idiots out in this cold. "First kiss and had sex."

Blaine leaned in closer to his boyfriend. "I see nothing wrong with that." 

The couple arrived at their destination a few blocks later. The back of the square, beige restaurant was like any other. Green dumpsters and recycling bins were tucked into an unlocked, fenced-in area. Random trash littered the slush covered ground. The smell of greasy food and exhaust from a too-hot kitchen wafted from the open service door and ventilation shafts. 

"You brought me to Breadstix?"

Blaine look at Kurt in shock. "You know about this place?"

"Of course I do."

Blaine knocked a short staccato on the side of the dumper and a pretty brunette human girl walked out, the top buttons of her white blouse undone, and a resigned, yet not unpleasant, look upon her face. "Hi, Blaine. The usual? No one's coming in because of the storm, so we have extra."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you."

"We can make out afterwards if you want to."

Blaine tilted his head to the side, a regretful look upon his face. "Thank you, but no, thank you. Maybe some other time?"

"Sure. Whatever." The waitress shrugged, turned, and went inside.

Kurt couldn't have held in his shock if he had tried. "You make out with her?"

Blaine grimaced. "Only when I'm really hungry. It's nothing, Kurt, I swear."

Kurt put his hand on his boyfriend's arm in comfort. "Blaine, it's okay. No, judgment by either of us, remember? We do what we have to in order to survive."

Their conversation was cut short when a beanie clad, blonde haired, human boy wearing a busboy's uniform and huge grin walked up to them. "Hi, Kurt! It's been too long. This tow truck driver keeps returning his steak. I think he's trying to get out of paying. I saved them for you in case you dropped by. Hang on a minute. I'll be right back." 

The boy left before Kurt could get out more than a, "Hi, Chandler."

Blaine laughed. "He has a crush on you!"

Kurt returned his boyfriend's tease with a playful smack his arm. "He does not! I'm pretty sure his step-brother is a hybrid. He's mentioned him a few times."

"Yeah, as a way of saying he'd be willing to date one."

"I never kissed him." Kurt took a deep breath. This was starting to not be funny anymore. "I would have, if I had to, but I never did. He just gives me food sometimes when he sees me at the dumpster."

Blaine brushed a hand against his boyfriend's cheek. "No judgments, remember, Kurt?"

"Thank you." 

It was only a few minutes before their dinners arrived. 

"Spaghetti with extra meatballs and I snuck out a bag of breadsticks for you." 

"Thank you, Rochelle."

"Anytime, Blaine." She walked away without a backwards glance. She didn't need to. Guys always came back.

Bouncing on his toes, the human busboy held out a bag, eyes only for the hybrid boy in front of him. "I threw in some fries and a couple of slices of cheesecake, Kurt. Hope you like it."

Kurt smiled back. Grateful for the kindness. "Thank you, Chandler."

Daringly, the boy kissed him on the cheek and ran back inside.

Kurt turned on his boyfriend and joined in on his "told you so" laughter. "Shut up, Blaine! It got us cheesecake!" 

* * * * * * *

"Snow sex!"

"I don't think that's a thing, Blaine."

"Noah and Lauren did it in 'Cold Days, Hard Nights'." 

"They've also sailed the high seas in a pirate ship and had a threesome with said pirate before making him walk the plank. And not just Noah's plank if you know what I mean."

"How is that weird? I mean, apart from the whole killing thing, which was unnecessary. The pirate was a good guy. He only stole from the rich and gave to the poor."

Kurt huffed his annoyance. "The threesome happened during a huge storm. The ship was being tossed by waves. Things were flying everywhere. The mast almost broke when the mainsail became untied. How could they possibly have had a threesome in all of that without serious injuries?"

"I think you're over-thinking things, Kurt."

"Sex in the snow! You'd freeze your nads off and snow would have gotten into Lauren's...internal areas."

Blaine laughed at his boyfriend's blushing face. "I've seen you roll around naked in the snow, Kurt."

"That was different."

"That was a good day."

Kurt laughed. "That was a good day. Want to repeat it?"

"Now? We just came a few minutes ago."

The hybrid shifted in the pile of blankets and discarded clothing, idly wondering where his underwear had gone. "I'm bored."

"Let's read another chapter." 

Kurt looked up at the loading bay's windows, the sky was already a deeper gray than it had been only an hour before and snow had begun fall. "I need to get back before the storm hits. I don't want Burt to worry. You could come with me, if you want."

"No, I'll be fine here. Those hand warmers will really help."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I'll come visit tomorrow or the day after if I can't get through." He kissed the top of his boyfriend's head and opened the book. "What do you say? Let's see if Noah does anything else in the 'frigid, powdery glistenings of nature's kiss'."

Kurt contemplated his options before deciding on the "warm and naked with his boyfriend reading smut" one. "Fine, but if his dick falls off, I'm giving up on the whole series. How you keep finding more books, I'll never know."

"I have my sources. It's very top secret. A whole underground of guilty pleasure romance novel readers." He winked at his boyfriend's smirk, and they readjusted their positions in the nest, snuggling closer. "Are you ready? I need to find out just how many ways a tail can throb with lustful desire." 

"Fine. But only one more chapter. Promise me, Blaine."

"I promise." Blaine turned to the correct page and began to read. "Lauren gazed upon her lover's body. His tail was long and firm, like a throbbing, sinuous snake, ready to wrap her up in its desire. With a sultry toss of her wavy, chestnut locks, Lauren dropped her white, gauzy gown to the floor. 'Fill my womanly places with your turgid manhood, Noah,' she exclaimed in a breathy whisper. 'Let me feel you pulse inside me!'"

Together, they burst out laughing. "Turgid manhood. That's what I'm going to call your dick from now on."

"No fair! That's what I was going to call yours."

"My book, so I get to call dibs, Kurt."

"Fine. Get back to reading or you'll never feel my turgid manhood again." Kurt squirmed as he felt the groping of his boyfriend's hand and his body's happy reaction to it. "Cheater." 

==================

Kurt pulled the sleeping bag tighter around himself. It made the shelter a more snug fit than before, even after he'd removed the straw. He was cold and damp from the snow that clung to his clothes, but it was better than last year. Everything was better than last year. 

He smiled at the light flicking through the house's window. Burt must be watching a game. He could hear bursts of shouted excitement as his team scored a touchdown or goal or basket or whatever sports' achievement thing had just happened. Burt and Carole had already been by to check on him twice. They'd helped him pull the garbage and recycling cans closer to form a kind of windbreak and tie the tarp down so it wouldn't blow away in the wind. There was food, coffee, and hand warmers, which were amazingly effective, but a pain to activate and put into place in such a tight space. 

And he had the key to the back porch. He fiddled with the piece of metal in his hand. Such a small thing for such a huge step. Carole had always treated him as a mother would, calling him "Sweetie" and speaking in only the gentlest of tones. Blaine had said her exam of his wounds had been completely clinical and respectful of his privacy, the same as his own had been. Burt had shown him nothing but kindness. He hadn't touched him. Hadn't risen his voice in anger except that once in the shop, and even then it was a mild rebuke. He hadn't spoken to him in a silky voice meant to sooth, yet instead raised the hair along your back and made your mind scream "danger." He hadn't done anything to show that he was other than as he presented himself. But Burt was still a human, a human male no less, and that therein lay the problem.

Commandant Ryerson was human too. His voice high pitched and manners unassuming until he got you in his office for your "routine evaluation." Everyone knew what those meant. All the boys did at least. He wouldn't bother you when you were little. It was when puberty hit that the touching would start. The hand that would stroke your chest, first over your jumpsuit and then under it. The sly lit of his voice as he told you what a good boy you were as he made you stroke his cock and he touched you in return. God, he never wanted to hear, "Come for Daddy, Baby" ever again. 

And then there was the day when it all got worse. 

Most of the guards were indifferent or plain old cruel. They ignored what was going on, would tip over your mop bucket, trip you as you hurried to your place at Line Up, slam you into a wall, and instigate fights for the fun of betting on the outcome. Those he could handle. They were just bruises and broken bones. They weren't "touching" and "leering." 

A few of guards were downright creepy. One of the creepiest was named Schuester. He liked to watch the teenage boys and girls shower and would give you pot or extra food if you put on a show for him. "Sexy showers" he called them. At least he wouldn't touch you and the pot made you forget for a little while.

You got privileges if you'd make out in front of him, the less clothes the better. Girl on girl was his favorite, but girl on boy was fine too. Kurt would make out with his friend Quinn from time to time; no exposure below the waist. He didn't want anyone to know that he couldn't...react...to her. Quinn didn't mind. Well, she did, but like everyone here, she was just trying to survive until her sentence was served or she aged out.

Then there was the day her boyfriend, Puck, got jealous. He'd confronted them in the bathroom, and started beating him up for it. Eight years in the Reformatory had taught Kurt how to fight back and he managed to land a punch to the guy's nads, another to his jaw, and dislocate his tail. It was during the fight that Quinn, trying desperately to pull Puck off, let it slip that it hadn't meant anything because Kurt was gay. 

That was the day that hell opened up and swallowed him whole. The day he couldn't bathe or eat or sleep without getting the shit beaten out of him. After all, why were the straight guys the ones being molested when there was a cocksucker who would gladly do it with a smile on his face. 

That was the day the Commandant had called him into his office for a "little talk." The day he was raped from behind and then forced to suck the man's flagging cock, tasting cum and his own waste on his tongue. When Ryerson noticed he wasn't turned on by it, the man had stuck fingers in his ass and rubbed at his prostate, forcing him to become erect, and stroked him until he came. telling him the whole time in a sickening sweet voice, "Well we can't have that, can we? You need to enjoy this too. Be a good boy and come for Daddy." Recharged and more excited than before, Ryerson bent him over the desk and brutalized him again. "You take my cock so good for me, Baby. Your hole just swallows me up. We're going to have so much fun together," would be forever burned into his memory. It was the day he had become one of the Commandant's favorites. His fifteenth birthday only two weeks before.

That was also the day he decided to escape, demanded that Quinn take him with her, and she'd agreed. He had known what she'd been planning. Her and Puck, wanting to get out before her baby was born. It had taken two months to execute, but eventually they made it out. The small group parted ways after that first night of hiding in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Lima Heights. Quinn and Puck were headed for Columbus. He was headed for "as far away from here as possible, somewhere like New York City." It turned out that far away wasn't possible, but a neighborhood in Lima was better than There.

And so now he lay, one and a half years later, in a shelter built by a man who had repeatedly sworn to never hurt him. Who had clothed, fed, and provided for him. Who had given him a job and hadn't driven him back to the Reformatory when he'd finally braved the backseat of his truck. Who had shown him only the kind of love his own mother had. But still, it was a big step, different than the garage with its many windows and giant bay door. And Burt was still a human male and he didn't know the layout of his house or a way to escape from it.

==================

Kurt awoke from the depths of a nightmare to the sound of scraping and howling winds. He poked his head outside his shelter and was assaulted by sheet after sheet of pelting ice and bitter cold. Through the haze he could see Burt, shovel in hand, clearing a path, making certain that the shelter didn't get buried in the snow. "Do you want help?"

Noticing the movement and voice of his charge, Burt came over and knelt down to be at Kurt's level. "You okay, Kiddo?"

"Yeah. Do you want help?"

"No, I'm almost done. How are you holding up?"

"I was asleep."

"That's not a bad way to get through this."

"Are you and Carole okay?"

"Us? Kid, you're the one out in this mess and we're...Yes, we're fine. The power went out about an hour ago, but we still have gas. Carole made a big pot of beef stew if you're hungry."

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"The storm is going to last all night and into tomorrow. You sure you're going to be okay?"

"I slept under your front porch last winter. This is much better."

"I don't see how, Bud, but it's your choice." Burt reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal object. "Here's the key to the front door in case the back one gets too covered by snow. I shoveled, but it won't make much difference in the end. Same for the front, but well...just giving you options, Kiddo. You've got enough winter gear on that the neighbors won't notice you're a hybrid."

Kurt took the offered key and closed his hand around it. "Thank you."

"You sure I can't get you anything?"

Kurt smiled and made a show of tugging the sleeping bag around his face. "I'm sure."

"I'll be by to check on you later. Good night, Bud."

"Good night, Burt."

Kurt toyed with the two pieces of metal in his hand, watching the flakes of snow melt on their surface. They smelled of oil and tires and warmth. He pulled his head back into his shelter and cracked a couple of warmers to life. His hand around the keys, he curled up tight and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of cheesecake and coffee and turkey and the singing voice of his mom telling him that he was safe now.

* * * * * * *

The world was white and he couldn't breathe. White and no air, no sound. Why was it so hard for him to catch his breath? Kurt's eyes fluttered open and he willed himself to come out of the fog. There was no light, only darkness inside his shelter. He pushed at the rubber flap of the entrance and it wouldn't budge. Panic flooded through him. He tried again and again, pulling at the edges until it gave way, meeting a wall of snow. Reaching an arm out, he clawed at the snow until he broke through the surface. It was deep and powdery under a layer of ice. Eagerly he gulped at the fresh air coming through the hole he'd made. Gathering his strength, he surged forward, limbs and head forcing the snow away until he was free of its smothering clutches and the shelter it had tried to bury him in. 

Now out and the panic starting to wane, Kurt looked about him. The world was darkness bathed only in the light reflected off of the waist-deep snow. Every human, hybrid, and animal was asleep, hiding from the drifts of ice that blanketed all that could be seen. There was a kind of reverent peace to the world that belied its dangers.

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. How long had he been without adequate oxygen? He took a deep breath and began walking across the snow, each step a soft crunch as it broke through the frozen surface. It wasn't long before he arrived at the back door. Sticking his hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out a key. It was time.


End file.
